What Matters
by boobookittybone
Summary: The war with the Locust continues, and in a dire moment, two Gears find that there's been quite a bit left unsaid between them.
1. Chapter 1

The painful, black fog began to lift slowly from Marcus's vision, and he groaned quietly, wincing and grasping at the back of his head, feeling the warm touch of his blood against his fingertips. Looking around, he could only see a broken glimpse of the dark, reddish skies through the shattered windshield of the now overturned Packhorse. As his vision began to slowly come into focus, Marcus tried to push himself from the driver's seat, only to find that the seatbelt had somehow managed to wrap around his chest tightly. Unsheathing his combat knife, Marcus sawed the blade through the belt...and was promptly dropped onto his right shoulder.

A stab of agony shot through Marcus's shoulder and his growled out a curse, pushing himself to his back as he had to scoot out from underneath the still smoldering wreck that had been their transport.

They.

Quickly looking around, Marcus tried to see if the two other Gears that had been riding in the Packhorse were anywhere to be seen. All he saw was the empty road with plumes of dust rolling across it, turning his attention back to the Packhorse, Marcus staggered to his feet, grasping at his right arm as his shoulder sent pulses of pain down to his fingers.

A low groan followed by a choked curse snagged Marcus's attention, and he quickly moved to the other side of the Packhorse. He froze momentarily, and it felt like every muscle in his chest snapped taut. The Packhorse had been thrown upside down, and it seemed to have landed on Baird. The blonde-haired Gear was slowly coming to, but already it didn't look good. As Baird coughed, blood bubbled up to his lips, and he made a short, strangled cry as he tried to push the Packhorse off his lower chest.

"Baird!" Marcus called, going over to the blonde-haired Gear's side.

"...get this fucking thing off me...!" Baird wheezed, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he weakly pounded the ground with a fist. "...I can't-can't breathe, goddammit!"

"Then shut it, Baird," Marcus replied tersely, looking at the Packhorse. He hadn't necessarily meant to snap at Baird, but all he could focus on was getting the vehicle off Baird before it crushed the man in half.

Baird stopped talking, but another strained groan escaped his gritted teeth.

"Listen to me," Marcus said firmly. "I'm going to lift this thing off you, okay?"

"Hurry up!" Baird cried, the last word gargling as another spatter of blood escaped from Baird's lips.

Taking in a deep breath, Marcus put his shoulder underneath one of the frame bars of the Packhorse before fiercely shoving his full body weight up and against the bar. An explosion of pain shot up from his left knee, and it took everything Marcus had not to stagger under the sudden shock of agony, but at the sight of Baird weakly struggling to drag himself out from underneath the looming Packhorse, Marcus locked his knee, forcing himself to keep his footing against the pain.

Wheezing and coughing, Baird managed to roll onto his stomach and drag himself out from underneath the Packhorse. Blinking against the sting of sweat and grit in his eyes, Marcus watched as Baird pulled himself against the sand and rocks at an agonizingly slow pace.

"...Baird," Marcus warned, his rough voice creaking slightly. His shoulder felt like a cleaver was being stomped into it, and by this point it was nothing but sheer will that was keeping his left knee from giving way underneath him.

To his credit, Baird clutched at the ground and managed to shove himself forward. He instantly regretted the action, as it felt like all of his ribs were trying to rip apart his insides, starting with his lungs. Coughing and groaning, rolling onto his back, Baird finally opened his eyes and stared up at the reddish-brown skies. His chest heaved as he struggled to breath against the weight of the armor and against the undoubtable damage to his ribs and possibly lungs. Every breath felt like fire, and, for the first time in a very, very long time, Baird couldn't even find the air to summon up a string of creative curses.

Seeing Baird free, Marcus finally relented to the agony that had struck his knee like a viper and staggered slightly, giving the injured joint a much needed reprieve. His shoulder still pulsed with shockwaves of pain, and every time Marcus moved his right arm, he swore he could feel something driven deep into his shoulder, supplying both a hinderance of movement and a seemingly endless supply of pain.

Limping to Baird's side, Marcus quickly glanced over Baird's armor. It was partially crushed and mangled, and it looked as though Baird had been flung from the Packhorse, but the vehicle had flipped over and landed on him, trapping him under its considerable weight.

"Baird?" Marcus asked, lightly setting a hand on Baird's shoulder. The blonde-haired Gear was already dangerously pale, and his breathing was shallow.

"Did...did you get...your...your driver's license...out of...out of a cereal box?" Baird wheezed.

"Stay still," Marcus ordered quietly. "I need to find Harris."

"...rookie?"

"Yeah. And I wouldn't suggest talking too much, either. Save your breath."

"I'm...I'm not...going anywhere..."

"...you'd better not be," Marcus murmured to himself, casting one last look at Baird before turning back to the overturned Packhorse.

Looking inside the twisted mess that had once been a Packhorse, Marcus tried to see if Vernon Harris, a newly recruited Gear, was trapped, unconscious, or dead. He saw nothing, though, and stood up, wincing. Reaching to his right shoulder, Marcus could feel something jutting out of shoulder, slick with what he could probably safely assume was his blood.

Grabbing the jagged edge, Marcus set his jaw and wrenched it from his shoulder. Stifling a hoarse yell, Marcus breathed quickly through tightly gritted teeth as he looked around. He glanced down at what he had torn from his shoulder. It was a piece of metal, probably shrapnel from the explosives. The road seemed eerily quiet, save for the still hissing sands that had been blasted by white-hot fire when the roadside explosive had detonated.

"Harris?" Marcus called. "Private Harris!"

"...sir!"

Hearing Harris's voice, Marcus turned to see a hand frantically waving from underneath a pile of rubble and what few supplies the Packhorse had been carrying. Limping over, Marcus pulled away some of destroyed remnants of a box of supplies to reveal a very frazzled looking Private Harris.

"I can't move my arm or legs, sir," Harris groaned, trying to pull his limbs free.

"Hold on," Marcus ordered. He looked over the wreckage quickly. He didn't want to accidentally cause something heavy to fall on Harris as he tried to free him.

Marcus shoved a smoking box of now unrecognizable contents aside, and Harris quickly reacted, yanking his right arm free and rubbing it lightly. He struggled to sit up as Marcus pulled another broken box off of Harris's abdomen, but soon began prying his legs free from the mangled mess that had once been necessary supplies.

"Where's Baird, sir?" Harris asked, breathing heavy. The Gear was currently wearing a helmet that concealed his dark brown hair, but he looked at Marcus with dark brown eyes, waiting for an answer.

"Baird's..." Marcus sighed. "Baird's hurt pretty bad. Packhorse flipped over on him."

Harris's eyes went wide and he worked on catching his breath. Though he already had a dark ring of a bruise forming around his left eye, it looked as though bruises were going to be the worst of his worries.

"See if you can find any sort of medical supplies in that mess," Marcus ordered.

"Sir, you're bleeding pretty bad, sir," Harris said quickly, eyeing Marcus's shoulder.

"I know. Deal with it later," Marcus replied.

Nodding, Harris turned and began digging through the supply boxes quickly, flinging some of the items to the side as he rooted through them.

Marcus walked over back to where Baird was still lying on the ground...and still struggling to breathe. But he was far more coherent than he had initially been, and he turned his head and looked up at Marcus with bloodshot, blue eyes.

"Find...the newbie?" Baird wheezed.

"Yeah," Marcus replied, crouching down. "Got him looking to see if any of the medical supplies made it. How're you feeling?"

"...fucking great!" Baird replied angrily. "...never be-hey...your shoulder's...bleeding."

"Yeah, must've landed on a piece of shrapnel when I cut myself free from the driver's seat."

"...clumsy...bull..."

Managing a faint grin, Marcus tried to wipe away some of the blood that was trickling from the corner of Baird's mouth. Though he grumbled and made a face, Baird didn't pull his head away. Looking around, Marcus tried to find some place that would be better than sitting out in the middle of a road. He was still extremely suspicious as to why the Locust hadn't shown up yet, but, given the circumstances, he'd take any sort of stroke of dumb luck they could get.

Baird's groaning and the sound of his armor grating on the ground snagged Marcus's attention and he looked down. Like the stubborn man he was, Baird was trying to slowly push himself into a sitting position. So far he'd only managed in propping himself up on his elbows.

"Don't move," Marcus ordered.

"I'm not going...goddammit...going to lay...on the ground...like a fucking...rug," Baird wheezed back, glaring up at Marcus.

"You're going to do more damage to yourself if you don't stay still."

Sighing and wincing, Baird ignored Marcus's advice and tried to push himself to his feet. Something inside him suddenly felt like it wrenched around the wrong way, and a paralyzing bolt of pain rocketed up Baird's spine. He immediately fell back with a hoarse cry, his back arching slightly as he pounded the ground with a fist and grimaced in agony.

"Baird!" Marcus quickly knelt down, ignoring the claws of pain in his left knee as best he could.

"Just shoot me!" Baird cried, coughing. "I can't even...can't even...can-"

"Quiet, Baird," Marcus ordered. "You're not doing yourself any favors by yelling like that."

"Fucking hurts!"

"I know, so try to stay still."

Finally relaxing and falling still, Baird looked up at Marcus with an almost pleading look, his blue eyes still bloodshot from the almost constantly blowing dust and stress. Frowning slightly, Marcus tried to ignore the feeling of helplessness that was starting to gnaw at him. He was no medic, that part was for sure. Granted, he knew basic first aid, but Baird needed a doctor, not a couple of band-aids.

"Sir!"

Private Harris's voice pulled Marcus out of his thoughts, and he looked over. Harris was limping slightly, but he was carrying a promisingly large medkit. Taking one look at Baird, though, Harris almost dropped the medkit.

"Uh...Baird? Sir?"

Baird held up his right middle finger in response.

"Oh good, he's still alive," Harris said with a sigh of relief.

"Private Harris, you wouldn't happen to know any form of medicine?"

"Uhh...sort of," Harris replied, rubbing the back of his head quickly.

"I...will not...accept help from...a 'sort of'!" Baird protested weakly.

"Can it, Baird," Marcus said firmly. He looked back at Harris, who was holding the medkit tightly, his arms shaking slightly. "Explain sort of, Private."

"I was...well, I was a veterinarian, sir," Harris explained quickly. "I was a veterinarian before I enlisted."

Well, it was better than nothing.

"Great!" Baird cried. "My life...hangs in the balance...of Fido's goddamn...doctor. Shoot. Me!"

Harris looked down at Baird, then up at Marcus, obviously nervous. Shaking his head slightly at Baird's arguing, Marcus kept his gaze on Harris.

"What was the worst case you had to work on?" he asked.

"Uh...well, hm." Harris paused, pondering the question. He then snapped his fingers lightly. "Probably where I had to do emergency surgery on a cow, sir. She'd gotten tangled in a harness and then ran her fool self into a piece of wood. Drove it straight into her stomach. Almost killed her and the calf she was carrying, but...managed to save them both." Harris managed a small, proud grin at the last part.

Marcus nodded slightly. Well, at least it sounded like Harris was able to work on more than a sick cat or dog that had swallowed a chew toy.

"Can you take a look at him?" Marcus asked, motioning to Baird.

"Of course, sir."

Harris knelt down beside Baird, who was favoring him with a dark scowl.

"Should I...bark or chirp...for you?" he sneered.

"No, sir, but please be quiet so I won't have to put a twitch on you," Harris replied with a nervous smile, looking over the damage to Baird's armor. "I need to get this armor off before I can do anything."

"You better...not..."

Frustrated, Harris looked up at Marcus, who just nodded, keeping an eye out for Locust and watching Harris's work. Baird grumbled a curse, but lay still as Harris quickly worked on prying the mangled armor away as carefully as he could. When he managed to remove the chest armor, Marcus felt his blood go cold.

Two large blotches of blood had seeped into the white shirt that Baird had been wearing underneath the armor. One seemed to originate from the right side of his chest, while the other ringed the lower part of his ribs. Harris didn't say anything, though, and opened the medkit. He produced a pair of scissors and deftly cut open the shirt, then pulled off his gloves. A large, elliptical gouge had bored its way into the right side of Baird's chest, while at least five large gashes had ripped across the lower half of his chest, and though he couldn't tell for certain, Marcus swore he saw a glint of bone in the mess of blood and torn flesh. Again, Harris seemed incredibly calm.

"Corporal Baird," Harris said calmly. "I know this has got to hurt like hell, but I need you to be honest and tell me, on a scale of one to ten, how bad the pain is, okay?"

Though he started to say something acidic in response, Baird just sighed in exhaustion and nodded. It had been enough of a relief to get the crushing weight of the armor off his chest, and now all he wanted to do was get back on his feet.

Harris lightly pressed his fingertips on Baird's chest, causing the gouge to open slightly, a small well of blood rising up. Baird winced, but didn't seem too discomforted.

"Sir?" Harris asked.

"Five...five or six," he answered.

"Thank you." Harris moved his fingertips to the center of Baird's chest and again pressed down gently. "Sir?"

"One...for being...touched."

"Thank you, sir," Harris said in quiet exasperation. He then began working his way down the right side of Baird's ribcage.

"Sir?"

"Six."

The highest Baird ever said for the right side of his rib cage was a six, but when Harris went to the left side of Baird's rib cage, it was a far different story.

"Sir?" Harris asked, setting his fingertips on the upper left part of Baird's rib cage.

"...fuck...seven."

Harris moved his fingertips to the middle of the left side of Baird's ribs, but before he even applied any real pressure, Baird yelped and gritted his teeth tightly.

"Eleven! Twelve! Holy...fuck! Thirteen, goddammit!"

Pulling his hands away immediately, Harris waited until Baird had calmed down before looking up at Marcus. Marcus was frowning darkly, concern etched into his features, but when he caught Harris looking at him, he raised an eyebrow slightly in response. Harris just shook his head slightly, then turned his attention back to Baird. He placed his fingers on the lower left side of Baird's ribs and applied pressure. Though Baird winced, he didn't seem to be in as much agony as he had been a few moments ago.

"Eight," he gasped.

"Thank you, sir," Harris said, standing up. He staggered slightly, rubbing his knee, but turned to Marcus.

"Yes?" Marcus asked.

"Sir, Corporal Baird's ribs are badly broken on the left side," Harris explained, keeping his voice low. "I can do what I can to set them, and I know I can stitch up the wounds, but we need to get him to an actual doctor. If he were an animal, I'd be suggesting surgery, but I can't do that because, well...besides the obvious that Corporal Baird isn't an animal, I don't have anywhere near the necessary items to do a surgery."

"What can you do, Private?" Marcus inquired quietly.

"I can clean the injuries, get them stitched up, give him a coagulant to keep him from bleeding out, and then give him something for the pain."

"How long do we have to get him to a doctor?" Marcus inwardly braced himself for the answer. Whatever it was, he was pretty sure he wouldn't like it.

"It's hard to say for certain, sir," Harris said with a sigh. "But under the best of circumstances, I'd say about twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Under the worst...four hours."

Swallowing hard at the last part, Marcus nodded shortly.

"Do what you can, then, Private Harris."

"Yes, sir," Harris responded smartly.

Marcus watched Harris begin pulling various tools and items from the medkit and setting them down on a small piece of cloth he had brought with him from the wreckage. Pulling his helmet back slightly, Harris grabbed an antiseptic pad and, after ripping the packaging open, wiped his hands down as quickly but as carefully as possible. Baird watched Harris, looking somewhere between angry, curious, and mildly panicked.

"What're...you doing?" he asked.

"First, Corporal Baird, I'm going to take care of this gouge on your chest," Harris explained, already cleaning the wound. "I'll apply a local anesthesia, but I'm saving the really good stuff for later, okay?"

"Fine," Baird answered shortly, hissing against the sting of pain as the burn of antiseptic hit the wound on his chest.

Stepping back slightly, Marcus went to the Packhorse and began fishing their Lancers and Snub Pistols that they had been carrying and that had been flung to the back of the vehicle. He could hear Harris talking to Baird, with Baird snapping back with every acidic curse he could think of. Harris didn't seem affected, though, and kept the same, low tone. Marcus could only guess that after having to deal with panicked animals, especially ones as large as cows, Harris had learned a level of patience and how to keep an even tone.

Sighing, Marcus leaned against the overturned Packhorse, allowing himself a brief moment to let the weight of the situation crash down on him. Out of the three of them, Harris was the least injured, and while he was a good soldier, he was still definitely a rookie. Marcus himself was pretty banged up, but it didn't feel like anything he couldn't deal with. He didn't really have a choice. He would have to deal with it.

And then there was Baird. The blonde-haired Gear had definitely gotten the worst of the injuries amongst the three of them, and even the projected outlook was looking grim. Sighing heavily, Marcus gritted his teeth and stared down at the ground. Again it felt like somebody was slowly closing a vise on his chest, and when he heard Baird cry out in pain, Marcus felt the vise suddenly slam shut, almost knocking the wind out of him.

Picking up the weapons, Marcus walked back back over to where Harris was working quickly, with the same low tone. He was talking to Baird about what sounded like everything under the Sun. From the time he won a bit of money on a lottery ticket to when he had foolishly jumped from a second story dormitory room in the Academy and broken his right foot. It was all small talk, but Marcus recognized it as a method to keep Baird focused as best as possible.

When he saw Marcus, Baird looked up at him, this time he made no attempt to mask the pain he was currently in, and Marcus looked back at him somberly. After a few seconds, Baird managed a quick wink and started to grin, but suddenly grimaced and struck the ground again with his fist when Harris began to carefully set the broken ribs as best he could.

"You trying...to kill me?" Baird demanded weakly.

"No, sir," Harris answered. "If I was trying to do that, I'd start singing to you."

The answer was unexpected enough that Baird blinked and lifted his head slightly.

"Eh?"

"I can't sing to save my life, sir. Even my own mother, who was an accomplished singer in her own right, told me she thought a parrot with laryngitis could sing better."

"...damn...you suck."

"That I do, sir," Harris agreed.

The exchange sounded almost hilariously out of place, but as Harris finished wrapping bandages around Baird's ribs, Marcus had to give the Private credit. Harris had kept Baird's attention off the pain long enough to get his work done.

As he injected a small shot into Baird's right arm, Harris sighed and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He looked up at Marcus, standing up.

"He should be okay for a few hours, sir," Harris said. "The damage is bad, but not as bad as I had initially thought. Of course, he's not a horse, either, so...I'm sort of guessing. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Private," Marcus answered flatly. "You did good."

Harris blinked, then grinned widely.

"Th-thank you, sir!" he stammered. He then quickly cleared his throat and tried to get his composure back. "Sir, I really should take a look at your injuries, too."

"I'm fine, Private."

"Don't...listen...to him," Baird called. "He's...stubborn...and bullheaded..."

"Erm," Harris said slowly, looking between Baird and Marcus quickly. "Sir, with all due respect, it would be best to have you in as best shape as possible, and you wouldn't be doing anybody, yourself included, any favors if you just try to grit your way through your injuries."

Marcus stared at Harris flatly, and, after a few minutes of letting Harris stand there and look as nervous as possible, he finally nodded.

"Thank you, sir," Harris said, breathing out slowly. "Now, if you would please sit down. I'll take a look at your shoulder first."

Sitting down carefully, wincing as his left knee yelled in protest, Marcus watched Harris fish a few more items from the medkit.

"What about you, Private?" he asked, tensing slightly as Harris began cleaning the wound on his shoulder.

"Me, sir?" Harris asked. "Oh, I think I'm fine. I'm going to be sore as fuck in the morning, sir, but nothing's broken, and I've only got minor cuts here and there."

"...asshole," Baird grumbled.

"Lucky for us," Marcus replied. Harris was currently carefully stitching the gouge shut, and Marcus was more than willing to put his focus elsewhere other than the constant stab of the needle. "Last thing we needed at this point was a critically injured medic."

Sulking, Baird looked away, not willing to agree, but knowing that Marcus was right. He sighed heavily as the anesthesia slowly began to take effect, and while it didn't erase the pain completely, it certainly took the edge off. He turned his gaze back to Marcus, who seemed to be staring at nothing in particularly as Harris worked on the last bit of stitching.

Reaching over and lightly hitting the toe of Marcus's boot, Baird waited for Marcus turn his gaze to him before grinning weakly.

"...maybe you'll...get candy...for being...a good patient," Baird chuckled hoarsely.

"Can it, Baird," Marcus muttered quietly.

Frowning, Baird punched the toe of Marcus's boot weakly in response, but Marcus didn't react.

"...what's...with you?"

Marcus stayed silent, and looked at Baird somberly. Harris had finished working on Marcus's shoulder, and had since starting wrapping bandages around Marcus's left knee. He seemed to be off in his own little world as he worked, though, and seemed to miss the exchange between Marcus and Baird completely.

Shaking his head, Marcus looked down at the ground. Harris had only used a local anesthesia for the stitches on his shoulder, but another, almost crushing feeling of exhaustion hit the dark-haired Gear, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Another, far more sinister feeling, was snaking its way into Marcus's thoughts. One that he was familiar with, but one that he knew he would have to fight tooth and nail. Guilt.

"Sir? Sergeant Fenix?"

Harris's voice once again pulled Marcus from his thoughts and he looked up at Harris, who was standing in front of him.

"Yes?"

"Were there any other injuries, sir? I took care of your shoulder and your knee," Harris said.

"No. Thank you, Private."

Nodding, Harris began packing the medkit back up. He froze suddenly, blanching an ashen white.

"Sergeant Fenix. Locust."

The three words were enough to immediately dismiss any and all other thoughts Marcus may have had at the moment, and he stood up quickly, looking to where Harris was staring.

Sure enough, there was a Kantus far down the road, his outline warped by the heat emanating off the road. He was too far away to even dream about shooting, but there was no denying that he was there.

"...fuck...fuck get me up," Baird demanded hoarsely.

"Private Harris, get Corporal Baird to his feet...carefully," Marcus ordered, never taking his eyes off the Kantus. He gripped his Lancer tightly, trying to discern what the damn thing was doing. "Get the rest of the weapons and the medkit. We're moving."

Wordlessly, Harris followed Marcus's orders, quickly gathering up the weapons and then the medkit. He turned to Baird, who had already propped himself back up on his elbows and was slowly struggling to get to his feet. Harris threw Baird's arm over his shoulders and lifted the blonde-haired Gear up.

Stifling a cry of pain, Baird squeezed his eyes shut. There was no amount of anesthesia that would numb this kind of pain, but the last thing he wanted to do was let the damn grub know he was hurt. Looking around quickly, Harris looked back at Marcus, who had never taken his eyes off the Kantus.

"Sergeant Fenix? Where are we going?"

"Saw what looked like an old farmhouse about a kilometer to the east. We're going there, Private."

"Yes, sir," Harris answered.

He began helping Baird limp quickly down the bar ditch beside the road and into a large field of tall weeds and what was left of a deserted crop. The foliage would help cover their tracks, but Marcus was almost positive the Kantus knew what they were doing. What he couldn't figure out was why the thing hadn't moved or done anything. It only raised his suspicions further.

()

Slowly turning the small name tag over in his claws, Taarl stared down the disgusting surface walker with narrowed eyes. He knew the human. He was infamous for killing scores of Taarl's kind with little more than a Lancer, knife, and seemingly unquenchable bloodthirst.

Taarl hated the man.

But now was not the time to go charging after him. Taarl was by himself at the moment, and while reinforcements would arrive soon, he knew that charging the dark-haired surface walker would be a death wish. But Taarl was a patient Kantus, and, judging by the mangled mess that had once been a human transport, the surface walkers were undoubtedly injured and would be easy pickings.

Looking down at the name tag, Taarl grinned inwardly to himself as he read over the name.

'Dr. Eleanor Boaz.'

Though the initial blood spatters had long since worn off, there was still the undeniable stain of human blood on the name tag. The stomach churning visage of the human woman smiled up at him, but Taarl would forever cherish the twisted, agonized expression she had worn as he'd slowly dissected her, piece by piece. The memories of her last shrieks were a lullabye to him, and he slid the name tag back into a pocket of his robes.

While it wasn't necessarily forbidden from keeping trophies, Taarl knew some of his brethren thought it odd that he had kept the name tag. What they didn't know, or didn't care to admit, was how much trouble that one, damnable human female had caused. She hadn't killed that many of Taarl's brethren, but those that she had killed she had butchered with the utmost prejudice.

She had flayed, electrocuted, and lobotomized whatever Locust had been unlucky enough to be captured by her, and by the time Taarl had finally caught up with her, he had walked in on her ripping the brain from a dying Drone.

Movement from the dark-haired surface walker snapped Taarl from his memories, and he watched as the armored soldier backed up and walked into a field. Snorting slightly, Taarl looked up at the already darkening sky. He would need to leave. The Kryll would be out in their usual droves soon, and Taarl had no intention of being their first course.

()

"Go, go," Marcus urged, eyeing the darkening skies.

"...fuck...hell...shit," Baird cursed as Harris practically dragged him along through the foliage.

"Yes, sir," Harris replied meekly.

"What...happened...with...the Kantus?" Baird called over his shoulder.

"Bastard just stood there," Marcus replied, narrowing his eyes. "Just stood there and stared me down."

"...the fuck?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

The trio broke into a clearing and found themselves staring at a long since abandoned farmhouse. Fortunately, it didn't look too dilapidated and, more importantly, it looked like the walls and ceiling were still intact. Wasn't ideal, but it would keep the Kryll from eating them alive.

"Let's go," Marcus said, taking the lead and walking up the creaking stairs to the door.

He pushed the door open slowly, and quickly glanced around, Lancer at the ready. Harris waited with Baird outside quietly as Marcus went through every room thoroughly, making sure they were the only ones that had decided to use the farmhouse for the night.

Fortunately, there were only five rooms. A kitchen/dining area, a living room of some sort, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. Going back to the front door, Marcus motioned for Harris and Baird. He watched as Harris carefully helped Baird limp up the stairs, then took one last long, scrutinizing look at the field before shutting the door.

"There's two bedrooms down that hallway," Marcus told Harris, pointing down the small hallway attached to the living room they'd walked into. "Looks like the master bedroom was on the right."

"Thank you, sir," Harris said. Though he hadn't complained, Marcus could tell by the young man's voice that Harris was exhausted.

As Harris helped Baird to the master bedroom, Marcus looked around for any and all light sources. He saw a fireplace on the north wall, but the smoke would give their position away in a heartbeat. Walking over to the doorway, Marcus flicked the light switch on the wall. Not surprisingly, none of the lights turned on. Looking around, Marcus walked into the kitchen and began opening every cabinet and drawer. The first wall of cabinets delivered nothing but a very startled pair of rats and dust covered canned goods. But the second had more practical items, and, thankfully, a set of flashlights.

Marcus picked them out of the cabinet and turned them on. Miraculously, both of them still had enough charge to deliver light. And it was enough that it would keep the darkness, and hopefully the Kryll, at bay.

"Sir?" Harris asked, poking his head into the kitchen.

"Yes, Private?"

"Corporal Baird is resting. The bed was dusty, but in good shape otherwise. I also found this." Harris held up a large, high-powered flashlight. It was larger than the two that Marcus had found, and Marcus could only assume that the people living here had had to deal with the Kryll enough to get their hands on more than just a measly couple of flashlights.

"Good work," Marcus said, taking the flashlight. It worked as well, and after almost unintentionally blinding himself temporarily, Marcus set the three flashlights down on the table. "We'll need to take turns on watch. I'm giving you first watch, Private Harris. After that, get some sleep."

"Yes, sir," Harris answered, nodding smartly. "Thank you, sir."

Nodding, Marcus walked around the rest of the house, checking the integrity of the windows and walls. Fortunately, most of the windows were boarded up and the walls were intact. Going back into the living room, Marcus saw Harris looking at an abandoned photo on the table in the middle of the room.

"Private Harris," Marcus said, motioning to the couch. "We need move the couch to bar the door."

Looking up, Harris nodded and immediately began moving the table from the middle of the room. Marcus walked over and between the two of them, they were able to shove the couch up against the door. It wasn't ideal, but it was far better than leaving the front door open for any Locust to get in through.

()

Night fell, and with it came the cacophony of shrieks and shrills from the Kryll as they circled high up into the skies, searching for anything living that they could devour.

Pacing in the living room, Harris looked up at the ceiling, swallowing hard as he felt his mouth go dry. He hated the Kryll. They were completely unbiased in what they ate, and rarely were their meals dead. Taking a small sip of the canteen of water he'd brought with him, Harris walked back and forth, trying to ward off the exhaustion that was gnawing at his body. He only had a couple more hours and then he could get some much wanted sleep.

Marcus had retired to the other bedroom, but it didn't sound like he was getting much sleep. Harris could hear the Sergeant muttering and talking to himself, and at points, it sounded like Marcus was pacing in the small room. Shaking his head, Harris stretched his arms over his head and popped his neck, yawning. He'd heard rumors that Sergeant Fenix suffered from nightmares, and pretty bad ones at that, but Harris wasn't going to ask about them.

And while he couldn't speak for Marcus, Harris was pretty sure his eyes would be shut the instant his head hit the pillow.

()

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Marcus stared down at the floor, then across the hallway to the master bedroom. The door was open just enough that he could see Baird, currently asleep, lying on the large bed with a sheet and thin blanket pulled up to his chest. Marcus watched as the blankets over Baird's chest slowly rose and fell with every breath Baird took. Frowning, Marcus sighed and ran his hands over his head.

Baird was obnoxious and undoubtedly an asshole, but he was a valuable and skilled Gear, and as much as Marcus hated to admit it, he'd grown to expect, and was a little accustomed to Baird's constant yammering and cursing.

A hoarse cough and weak groan made Marcus look up. Baird was twisting slightly under the blankets, grimacing, but after a few moments, he fell still and went back to sleep. How Baird didn't have nightmares was still nothing short of a mystery to Marcus, but it was something that he knew many Gears secretly admired and hated about Baird.

Sighing heavily, Marcus stood up. He wasn't getting any sleep at this rate, and he was pretty sure Private Harris would benefit from the rest.

Walking out into the living room, he saw Harris walking around in circles, humming to himself. When he saw Marcus, he stopped and stood up straight. Marcus waved a hand quickly, shaking his head.

"Go get some sleep, Private Harris," he said quietly.

"Sir? Are you sure? I don't think I-" Seeing Marcus's expression, Harris stopped and nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Marcus nodded and watched as Harris walked into the secondary bedroom. After a moment, he poked his head out of the doorway.

"Sir? Is it okay if I shut the door? I, er...sleep better...with the door shut." Harris seemed a little sheepish about the last part.

Marcus nodded in response, and Harris darted back inside the room, shutting the door behind him. Allowing himself a rare, short chuckle, Marcus shook his head slightly. If only nightmares were so easily dismissed by simply shutting a bedroom door...

After a few minutes, Marcus could hear the sound of Harris snoring loudly, a testament to how exhausted the Private had been. Walking to the master bedroom, Marcus looked down at Baird, who was still in some sort of catatonic sleep from the looks of it. A thin veil of sweat had formed on the blonde-haired man's face, and streaks of dirt and grit were smeared across his tanned skin.

Marcus gave himself a few minutes of deliberation, and then walked to the bathroom. He opened one of the cabinets and sorted through its contents, picking out the least dirty of the washcloths. He looked for any sort of medical supplies, but only found a few band-aids, a couple of discarded aspirin, and a pair of tweezers. Walking out of the bathroom and back to the master bedroom, Marcus carefully wiped the worst of the grime from Baird's face. Though Baird grumbled and stirred slightly, he seemed to fall back asleep. Setting the washcloth down on the nightstand table, Marcus sat down on the floor beside the bed, sighing heavily.

"...I'm sorry," Marcus muttered, looking down at as his hands. He hated apologies, and he was never good at them, but now it didn't matter. Nobody could hear him. "...damn grubs never cease to figure out a way to get the jump on us."

"...that's...because...you were driving..."

Baird's hoarse voice made Marcus look up. Baird was looking at him with half-lidded eyes, but his trademark smirk was on his face.

"You're awake," Marcus commented.

"...your pawing...at my face...would wake...anybody," Baird sneered.

"Had to get the dirt off you somehow."

"...aw...you do...like me," Baird coughed.

Marcus was quiet. He started slightly when he felt something lightly grab at the top of his head and eventually the side of his face. Looking up, he saw Baird peeking down at him from the edge of the bed, the blonde-haired man having scooted to the edge of the bed. Seeming a little off put, Marcus raised an eyebrow at Baird.

"What?"

"I was...expecting...an answer..."

Taken aback, Marcus stared up at Baird, who was still grinning weakly, albeit smugly. Coughing weakly, Baird tugged on Marcus's do-rag lightly. Marcus grasped Baird's hand, looking at him in exasperation. Marcus's straight, solemn expression didn't betray his racing thoughts, and by this point, he could hear his pulse hammering in his ears.

"...stupid...bull," Baird chuckled hoarsely. "...don't...get it...do you?"

Swallowing hard, Marcus was fairly sure he 'got it,' but he didn't dare say anything. Too much was at stake and he couldn't risk anything at this point. So, finally, he cleared his throat and shrugged slightly.

"Maybe," he finally answered.

"...need me...to spell...it out?"

"...maybe."

"...of course...you do," Baird laughed quietly, reaching down and hooking his fingers on the neck of Marcus's armor. "...c'mere."

Marcus didn't resist as Baird pulled him closer and kissed him firmly. Baird's hand lightly grazed the side of Marcus's face, and the blonde-haired Gear pulled back slowly.

"...got it...now?"

In response, Marcus leaned up, carefully setting his hand on the side of Baird's face and using his thumb to wipe away another small smear of dirt. He kissed Baird softly, trying to be careful, but Baird seemed to have other ideas as he deepened the kiss, making it more insistent. Marcus made a muffled grunt of surprise, but didn't resist. Baird's fingertips lightly traced the scar on Marcus's face before grasping gently at Marcus's jaw.

Reluctantly, Baird pulled away, the pain in his chest finally overtaking him. He grinned down at Marcus and winked before rolling over onto his back. Closing his eyes, Baird sighed heavily. His ribs were starting to ache and burn again, and exhaustion was worming its way through him. But it was a contented feeling of exhaustion, and he was willing to let sleep overtake him.

"...hey..."

"What?" Marcus asked, looking over the edge of the bed at Baird.

Snapping his fingers, Baird pointed to the side of the bed that was currently unoccupied. Marcus managed a short chuckle and shook his head.

"You know I don't sleep."

"...yeah...but I...do..," Baird replied, snapping his fingers again and pointing at the empty side of the bed. "...get...over here..."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Marcus stood up and walked over to the other side of the bed. He sat down on the bed, his back against the headboard. Slowly, Baird edged towards Marcus before the dark-haired Gear carefully pulled Baird to him. Wincing but crawling closer, Baird set his head on Marcus's chest, succumbing to the exhaustion that was racking his broken body. He felt Marcus sigh heavily, and Baird reached up and lightly patted Marcus on the chest before slipping back into sleep's merciful grasp.

()

Dawn slowly began to break through the dark clouds, sending the Kryll quickly flying for the dank, damp, and pitch dark of the subterranean tunnels they called home. Marcus looked outside the window at the fields that were slowly waving in the morning wind. It seemed eerily quiet, and he wanted to get out of the farmhouse as quickly as possible. They were sitting ducks in the thing during the day time.

Looking down at Baird, Marcus reluctantly shrugged slightly, trying to rouse the blonde-haired man awake.

"Baird?"

"...five more minutes," Baird muttered, pulling the blankets over his head.

Marcus didn't get a chance to respond. The window in the bedroom suddenly shattered, sending a spray of glass into the air, and Marcus snarled in pain as he felt a bullet rip across his already injured shoulder. Rolling to the floor, Marcus gritted his teeth and looked to Baird, who had snapped awake and rolled onto the floor. Though he was grimacing in pain, Baird looked at Marcus, far more coherent than he had been yesterday.

"Goddamn grubs found us!" Baird hissed.

"Sergeant Fenix!"

Hearing Harris's voice, Marcus immediately realized that the young man would be walking right into the line of fire if he opened the bedroom door.

"Private Harris! Keep your head down!" Marcus ordered.

Through the now broken window, the undeniable smell of smoke wafted into the house, and soon it began to curl in like an insidious, coiled claw. And slowly but surely, the unmistakable roar of a fire began to dominate the air. The fields were on fire...

"Go, go!" Marcus ordered, crouched down but making his way to the doorway of the master bedroom. He grabbed the two Lancers that he had left leaning on the wall, handing one to Baird.

Taking the Lancer, Baird followed Marcus out of the master bedroom, immediately regretting that they had had to leave his mangled armor behind. Any sort of armor was better than no armor in this case.

Private Harris was waiting outside in the hallway, crouched down and holding his Lancer. He looked over at Baird and Marcus, panic trying to break through his features.

"I think the Locust found us, sir," he said shakily.

"Yeah, they did," Marcus growled.

Smoke now filled the farmhouse, and it was just a matter of time before the flames in the fields leapt to the wooden house and sent it up in smoke as well.

"We're going to cook like a goddamn turkey in this thing if we don't get out of here," Baird yelled.

Looking around quickly, Marcus motioned for the other two to follow him. They made their way to the kitchen, and as he neared the small window on the kitchen wall, Marcus revved the chainsaw bayonet on his Lancer. Driving it into the wood, Marcus flinched slightly as splinters bit at his face. Sparks flew as he struck something metal, possibly a reinforcing bar or framework, but he continued to drag the chainsaw bayonet down the wall.

When he reached the floor, Marcus stepped back...and then charged the down damaged wall. Ramming it with his shoulder, he staggered slightly as the wood buckled, but didn't give way. The window shattered, glass raining down onto the floor, and Marcus backed up again, this time a little farther. Harris and Baird watched wordlessly, but they kept casting glances over their shoulders at the living room, where the Locust would most likely come in through.

Charging the damaged wall again, Marcus slammed his shoulder against it once again, his left knee suddenly shrieking in protest. This time, though, the wall gave way, and Marcus backed up, kicking the wood and framework away. He looked to Harris and Baird, motioning for them to go first.

"Private Harris, go," he ordered.

Nodding, Harris deftly leapt through the new door in the kitchen, landing on the ground with a grunt. Baird moved forward, looked at the damaged wall, then smirked up at Marcus.

"Told you that you acted like a bull," Baird stated arrogantly before working his way to the outside. He landed, but fell to his knees as pain shot up from his ribs to his shoulders, yanking him down.

Harris was already helping Baird to his feet as Marcus crawled out of the farmhouse. Looking around, Marcus gritted his teeth. They were surrounded by fire, and he could already hear the unmistakable shrieks and roars of Locust. Judging by one of the screams, they were dealing with at least one Kantus. Most likely the one that Marcus had seen yesterday. Spying a small shed, Marcus pointed at it.

"Let's go!" he shouted, having to raise his voice to be heard over the roaring fires.

As they neared the shed, the door suddenly erupted as two Wretches lunged from its shadows. Skidding to a stop, the three Gears immediately opened fire at the darting Locust. One fell just short of Marcus's boots, but the other managed to dodge around and ram into Harris's stomach, knocking the younger Gear over. Turning, Baird revved the chainsaw bayonet on his Lancer and stabbed it into the Wretch, grinning grimly as he heard the monstrosity squeal in pain.

Quickly scrambling to his feet, Harris looked at Baird and nodded quickly.

"Thank you, sir," he said breathlessly.

"Keep moving," Marcus ordered.

He led them past the now partially destroyed shed, heading towards what looked to be a small, unfinished stone building. Most likely it had been intended to house either supplies or farm equipment, but the owners hadn't had the time to complete it. But the stones would provide better cover than wood, and stones wouldn't burn.

"Watch our six!" Marcus cautioned, keeping an eye out as they raced towards the unfinished stone shed. He could hear Baird wheezing fiercely, but they couldn't stop. If they stopped now, they were dead.

Bullets began whizzing through the air as the Locust fired blindly, but as they drew closer to the shed, Baird dared a glance over his shoulder to see the Locust emerging from the burning fields like something out of a horror show. The grubs were coated with ash and were panting against the smoke, baring mouthfuls of sharp, jagged teeth.

This day just kept getting better and better...

Vaulting over the unfinished stone wall, Marcus began to return fire as the Locust began to draw close, trying to buy Harris and Baird enough time to take cover. Two more Wretches fell to the gunfire, but eventually Drones began to emerge from the fields. Hissing a curse under his breath, Marcus grimly acknowledged that the Kantus had been scoping the place out, and had now brought a whole horde of Locust right down on their position.

By a stroke of luck, they had a small lake to their back, which would at least keep the Locust from flanking them. Not like they would really need to at this point...

At this point, all three Gears were desperately firing at any Locust they could train their Lancers on.

"We're going to run out of bullets before these fuckers stop appearing out of the fields!" Baird yelled, ducking as a bullet pinged off the rocks near him. "Shit!"

Hurling a frag grenade at the oncoming Locust, Marcus tossed Baird an extra clip of ammunition before returning to fire at the Locust. A Drone had managed to stagger its way dangerously close to them, and Marcus could see a weak, almost depraved grin on the beast's features. Marcus soon found out why the creature still wore a grin as it collapsed...

The ground in front of them suddenly whipped up in a flurry of jet black clouds and choking fumes, and Harris coughed hoarsely, gagging as the air was sucked out of him. A shrill, reverberating scream rattled the air, heard even over the fires, and Marcus looked up to see the Kantus he had seen from yesterday standing on the roof of the farmhouse.

The Drone that had collapsed suddenly lurched to its feet, hissing and snarling as it charged Marcus head on. It lunged, crashing into Marcus and slamming the Gear into the ground, cracking Marcus's head against a rock. Raking his claws across Marcus's neck and then chest armor, the Drone tried to rip its way through Marcus's armor in a wild frenzy.

"Shit!" Baird yelled. He set his jaw and charged the Drone, ramming it with his right shoulder. A roar of pain and fury escaped Baird as he swung his Lancer upward, burying the chainsaw bayonet in the Drone's stomach. Firing the chainsaw bayonet to life, Baird gritted his teeth, bringing the bayonet up and through the Drone.

As the pieces of the Drone fell in opposite directions, Baird staggered back, gasping weakly. Whatever had even started to heal he had just re-damaged, and now his world was spinning threateningly. Marcus quickly got to his feet, grabbing Baird as the blonde-haired Gear collapsed. Slowly Baird fell to his knees, and he coughed and wretched up a mouthful of blood. Breathing hard, feeling his warm blood trickling down the gouges in his neck and pooling in the neck of his armor, Marcus looked up and saw the Locust drawing closer, the Kantus shrieking at them to keep pressing the fight. Even as Marcus and Harris continued to cut down the Locust one by one, they seemed to keep coming.

Forcing himself to stand, Baird slammed his Lancer down on the rock wall, unable to brace it against his now injured shoulder. He pulled the trigger, gritting his teeth against the rattling recoil, determined to take as many grubs down as he could.

Suddenly, the Kantus stopped in mid-scream and whirled around. He dove out of the way just as a sudden hailstorm of bullets ripped the roof right off the farmhouse. A large black shadow suddenly rose up from the thick, choking smoke, and a King Raven tore through like some sort of ebony dragon and began circling the area, laying down a flurry of bullets that mowed down the Locust. Realizing they were now being ripped to ribbons from the helicopter, the Locust began to scatter back into the still burning fields, trying to find cover from the relentless bullets.

"Am I seeing things?" Harris cried, rubbing his eyes quickly.

Marcus didn't answer, but watched as the King Raven did yet another circle around them, driving off the Locust attackers and sending clouds of smoke and dust into the air and the Locust fleeing for their miserable lives.

()

Within the safety of the King Raven, Baird had been strapped to an emergency stretcher, while Marcus and Harris had been seated as the King Raven lifted off and began flying through the air.

Marcus looked over at Harris, who was leaning back against the back of the seat, breathing heavily but otherwise okay. Turning his gaze to Baird, Marcus was surprised to see that Baird was still awake and coherent enough to grin up at him weakly. Relenting to the mix of emotion and relief that washed over him, Marcus returned the grin wordlessly.

For now...they were safe. And at that moment, that was all that mattered...


	2. Chapter 2

Sighing heavily, Marcus combed his hair back quickly with his hand, glancing around the gym quickly. There were a couple of soldiers, but they were busy chatting amongst themselves. Suited Marcus just fine. Shutting the locker slowly, he winced slightly, shrugging against the bandages on his shoulder. Technically he was under medical leave. He'd managed to tear up his knee more than he'd realized, but being told he had to stay on base was a form of punishment as far as Marcus was concerned. He'd finished up his second bout through the gym today, and it wasn't even noon.

Harris had been checked out by a doctor and given a clean bill of health along with a couple of aspirin for the black eye he'd managed to get. The rookie had been incredibly lucky given the circumstances, and though he'd been a little jumpy for a couple days after the whole incident, he'd made a full recovery.

Baird, however, had been rushed to emergency surgery practically the moment the King Raven had touched down. He'd complained and cursed every step of the way, but the medical staff had come to expect that from the blonde-haired Gear. Marcus had wanted to accompany them, somehow thinking that if he was there and keeping an eye on the surgeon, it would make a difference. But then common sense had kicked in and Marcus had had to bitterly remind himself that he would be about as useful as an empty Lancer in a firefight as Baird had been prepped for emergency surgery...

So Marcus had reluctantly backed off. He'd gone to the firing range. Done what he did best. Put bullets either into or through targets.

It hadn't helped, but it had kept him distracted long enough that he hadn't been pacing up and down the hallway outside the operating room.

The report was that Baird had gone through the surgery without complications and, after throwing a Baird-level fit, had been released...despite the doctor's orders. Frowning slightly at the memory, Marcus walked to the shower room, turning on one of the showers quickly.

As per usual, the water seemed to be just as hot as it was outside, and Marcus gave the showerhead a glare before quickly splashing some on the back of his neck and rinsing his hair off. He didn't have time for a full shower, so this would have to suffice. Ruffling his hair quickly to try and dry it off as best he could, Marcus tugged his do-rag back on. He rubbed his shoulder lightly, his fingers brushing against the bandages.

Grimacing, Marcus walked out of the gym and into the staggering heat of almost midday. He walked across the dry, parched ground, the sand and rocks crunching underneath his boots. He was still on medical leave, and while most soldiers would welcome the reprieve from constantly fighting grubs, Marcus found that it left him feeling a bit lost.

As he entered the barracks, grateful for the tepid air that the air conditioners were churning out, Marcus walked to his cot and sat down. Sleep was a joke at this point. If it wasn't nightmares about a Drone ripping him apart, it was something far worse. ...that Baird was the one being torn apart by the Drone.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Marcus lay back on the cot, a mixture of frustration and exhaustion hitting him. He knew that uninterrupted sleep would be a help by this point, but the idea seemed so far-fetched that it brought a bitter grin to Marcus's face. Closing his eyes in exasperation, Marcus pulled off his do-rag and ran his hands through his still damp hair and brought them up to his gaze...

...only to find them covered in dark red blood.

Sitting up with a jolt, Marcus jerked his gaze around quickly, realizing from the pounding pain in the back of his head that he had just managed to drag himself out of unconsciousness. Shit, how long had he been out?

They were still trapped in the farmhouse, but by this point, it was up in flames, searing heat blasting Marcus in the face. His shoulder was in agony, and it felt like somebody had driven a knife straight through his left knee. He could barely move, his shoulder and knee refusing to respond, and the wooden floor beneath him was slowly starting to give way as the flames devoured the dry wood.

"...s..sir?"

Immediately recognizing the voice, even though it was strained and weak, Marcus turned to see Private Harris, or rather, what was left of the poor man, thrown up against the wall, the couch pinning him to the burning wall. Flames licked at Harris's armor, and judging by the coils of smoke and stomach-churning smell, the young man was slowly being cooked alive in the metal armor.

"Harris!" Marcus yelled, willing himself to move forward. He grabbed the couch, ignoring the pain from the scalding heat that seared his hands. "Hold on, Private. Just have to get this...goddamn...couch..."

"...nuh-no...puh-please...," Harris whimpered. His skin was slowly starting to bubble and warp around his blood-soaked neck, and Marcus doubled his efforts at pulling the couch away.

"Almost...," Marcus growled. His shoulder was in white-hot agony by this point, but he would be damned if he let Harris burn alive in his armor.

The couch suddenly relented, and there was a sickening sound of wood, metal, and what sounded like wet paper bags being torn apart. Marcus was sent sprawling backwards, thrown off balance. Quickly getting to his feet, Marcus looked up and felt his blood freeze over.

Private Harris was now torn apart from the waist down. Looking down in mute horror at the blood trail, Marcus slowly began to piece together that the couch had somehow managed to melt into Harris's armor, and that when Marcus had managed to pull the couch free, he had, in effect, torn Private Harris apart.

He'd murdered the young man.

"...suh...sir...?" Harris whimpered, looking at Marcus with agonized, now glassy eyes. A thick, viscous glob of blood bubbled from Harris's mouth.

Staggering back, his breathing now hoarse and choked as a mix of smoke and shock wormed its way into his lungs, Marcus looked around the farmhouse. Panic had now firmly taken hold of Marcus and he backed away from Harris's now still, torn in half body.

Baird.

He had to find Baird.

"Baird!" Marcus shouted, looking around quickly, trying to see through the towering flames and thickening smoke. "Baird!"

Looking over to the hallway, Marcus saw a pair of Drones, their outlines wispy and warped by the incredible heat, walk slowly into the master bedroom, slamming the door shut. The agonized scream that shortly followed stopped Marcus's heart in mid-beat and he ran to the hallway as fast as his crippled knee would allow. A wall of fire suddenly roared up from the ground as the farmhouse began to split in half, and Marcus staggered back before lurching forward, the wooden floor caving in beneath his feet. Lunging forward to avoid falling into the smoldering pit of fire, splintered wood, and dirt below him, Marcus leapt through the fire...but not before Harris's legs brushed against his boot just enough to send a shiver down Marcus's spine.

Baird's dying screams were the only audible thing at this point, and Marcus rammed his shoulder against the door fiercely. The first impact only shuddered the door, but the second one ripped the door free from its hinges and Marcus charged into the room, ready to rip the Drones apart with his bare hands if he had to.

What he saw, though, stopped him dead in his tracks.

One of the drones had hoisted Baird up by the back of his neck, while the other Drone had began to rip Baird's broken ribs out. They didn't even look up when Marcus broke into the room, but Baird noticed him. Managing to give Marcus a dying scowl, Baird coughed weakly, blood sputtering from his lips. The Drones continued to disembowel the blonde-haired Gear, a sinister, almost human sounding cackle rising up from their thick throats.

Roaring in fury and a welling feeling of helpless desperation, Marcus charged the first Drone that was ripping Baird apart. The instant he struck the Drone, it exploded in a spray of ash and blood, but its maddening cackle lingered in the air. Turning to the second Drone, Marcus swung his fist at the wavering creature. The explosion of blood and ash struck Marcus in the face, burning at his eyes. He heard Baird's body collapse against the bed, and Marcus viciously rubbed his eyes, desperate to restore his sight.

As his eyes cleared, Marcus almost wished he hadn't wiped the blood and ash away.

Baird was lying on his back, and almost all of his ribs, along with the lower half of his lungs and insides, were gone. His body convulsed weakly as the last throes of life seeped out of him, but he still managed to look up at Marcus accusingly.

"...god...damn...you," he rasped, the lower half of his face covered in gore. "...too...fu...cking...slow..."

"Baird!" Marcus yelled, crouching down at Baird's side as part of the roof collapsed with a wrenching noise. "Baird! Just..! Just hold on! I can get you out of here!"

"...fu...fuck you...Marcus," Baird whispered, a slow sigh escaping his mutilated lungs.

"Baird!" Marcus shouted, grabbing the blonde-haired man's shoulders. Baird was gone. He knew it. ...but he refused to accept it. "Baird! Wake up! Baird! Baird!"

A clawed hand slammed down on Marcus's shoulder and he realized that another Drone had arrived to finish him off. Blinded by rage and a sinking feeling of despair, Marcus whirled around and grabbed the Drone by the throat, lifting him up into the air.

"Sir!" the Drone screamed, flailing.

Marcus brought his fist back, ready to break the Drone's face.

"Sergeant Fenix! Wake up! Sir! Wake up, sir, please!"

"...the hell?" Marcus muttered.

His eyes snapped open and Marcus found himself staring into the very terrified face of Private Harris. His heart hammered against his chest and his breathing was shallow, but Marcus slowly lowered his fist.

"Private Harris?" he asked slowly, his tone tinged with disbelief.

"Sir?" Harris inquired, staring at Marcus with wide eyes. "Sir...are...are you okay? I heard...I heard you shouting. I thought you were in trouble."

Another nightmare.

Another goddamn nightmare.

"Shit," Marcus grumbled, rubbing his face slowly.

"Um...sir...could you...maybe, please...let me go?" Harris asked quietly.

It was then that Marcus realized he was lying back on his cot and, in his thrashing, had grabbed Private Harris by the collar of his jacket and yanked him almost on top of him.

Snarling under his breath, Marcus released Harris's jacket collar. Harris quickly scrambled back, tugging on his jacket to straighten it out as best he could.

"...sorry," Marcus said shortly, sitting up. He could only imagine what the Private was thinking, and he doubted any of it was good.

"Uh...are you okay, sir?" he stammered. "Do you need anything, sir?"

"Yeah, a really stiff drink," Marcus grumbled.

"Well, I, uh...I can go get you one, sir."

Marcus held up a hand and shook his head, stopping Harris. He'd traumatized the Private enough. The last thing he wanted or needed was the young man running errands for him.

"...fuck," Marcus hissed, trying to clear his thoughts.

"You sure you don't want that drink, sir?" Harris asked cautiously.

"Yeah," Marcus answered, nodding his head. He'd get the drink on his own. "You can go now, Private."

"I...are you-" Harris stopped himself and nodded. "Yes, sir. I, erm, I hope you feel better sir."

"I will," Marcus replied steely. He wasn't angry at Harris, but he was downright furious with himself for falling asleep like that. He must have been far more exhausted than he'd surmised. "...thank you, Harris."

"You're very welcome, sir," Harris said as he walked slowly out of the barracks. He cast one quick glance over his shoulder at Marcus, frowning in concern, before walking out into the hallway that led away from the barracks.

Glancing up at Harris as the Private left, Marcus silenced the nagging horror in the back of his mind that, yes, Harris was still, in fact, in one piece. Breathing out a long, heavy, shuddering sigh, Marcus leaned forward slightly, feeling his stomach churn threateningly.

Standing up quickly, Marcus took a deep breath, looking around the barracks, picking out various items that brought a sense of familiarity back to his still spinning world. Taking a slow step forward, mentally berating himself, Marcus swallowed hard and then walked forward angrily and out of the barracks. It looked as though night had fallen, which was fine by Marcus. This meant he could stay up during the night, when most of the other Gears would be asleep, and avoid having another goddamn nightmare with a lot more witnesses than one scared witless Private.

()

Wandering around the base, Marcus found himself back at the gym. It was long since empty, but the silence was welcoming. Walking into the locker room, Marcus sat down on one of the benches that ran parallel with the wall of lockers. Sighing heavily, Marcus rubbed the back of his neck and then his injured shoulder.

He was still shaken from the nightmare, and he'd been tense and ready to attack at a moment's notice. It had only brought the exhaustion back with a vengeance...

"Thought I'd find ya' here."

Instantly recognizing the voice, Marcus looked up and saw Baird leaning on the doorframe of the locker room. Judging by the grin on his face and the slight tinge of a reddish hue on his face, Baird was either sunburned or drunk. And the drawl in his voice pointed more towards the influence of alcohol.

"Baird?" Marcus asked quietly.

"Yer' a hard man to track down," Baird sneered.

"What do you want, Baird?" Marcus sighed tiredly. His nerves were frayed and the last thing he wanted to do was lose his temper with Baird. Especially a drunk Baird.

"'ey!" Baird cried, frowning. "Don't have to be an ass, ya' know. I brought you somethin'..." Baird quickly held up a dark green bottle of what Marcus could only guess was alcohol strong enough to fuel an Armadillo. Baird shook the bottle enticingly.

"That...may not be the best of ideas at this time," Marcus said slowly.

"Yeah, heard ya' almost punched rookie's lights out," Baird chuckled, sitting down beside Marcus. Baird was wearing a pair of combat fatigue pants and a dark grey shirt, and his blonde hair was an utter mess. He winced slightly, rubbing at his left side, then held the bottle up in front of Marcus. "C'mon, ya' stubborn bull... Ya' look like could do with drinkin' the whole bottle."

"Baird..."

"Don't make me try to...persuade ya'," Baird snickered, lightly scratching underneath Marcus's chin.

Moving his head away slightly, Marcus sighed and looked down at the floor. He didn't know why, but seeing Baird, even though he was up and walking and in considerably less pain, made his chest tighten in guilt. His nightmare had been right...

He should have been quicker...

Blinking, Marcus realized that Baird had already opened up the bottle and taken another swig before practically thrusting the bottle into Marcus's face. Grumbling, Marcus snatched the bottle and took a long swig, grimacing as the thick liquid burned his throat. Whatever it was, it was potent as hellfire.

Handing the bottle back to Baird, who was now grinning widely, Marcus sighed again and stared down at the floor. Frowning and setting the bottle aside, Baird lightly poked Marcus's shoulder repeatedly.

"'ey, 'ey, 'ey...what's with ya'?"

"Stop it, Baird," Marcus grumbled, feeling his temper slowly start to fire up.

"Waaat?" Baird asked, feigning mock hurt. "I din't even hurt ya'. ...sissy."

"Baird. Just...just stop," Marcus muttered, shaking his head. "...please."

Sitting up as straight as his injuries would allow, Baird tilted his head to one side slightly, seeming frustrated and perplexed by Marcus's behavior. Finally, he lightly punched Marcus's shoulder.

"What's with ya', Marcus?" Baird asked. "Stop bein' such a stubborn bull 'bout it an' just yak about it already."

"I..." Marcus stopped. Words were failing him, and he could already feel the alcohol slowly seeping into his system. "...nothing."

"'nother drink," Baird demanded, shoving the bottle back in front of Marcus's face.

By this point, Marcus saw no point in arguing. There was no way he could out-stubborn a drunk Baird, and at this moment, he didn't want to. He grabbed the bottle and took another long drink, almost relishing the sharp burn.

"Whoa, whoa...easy," Baird laughed, lightly tapping Marcus's arm. "...stuff's stronger 'n you give it credit for."

Ignoring Baird's warning, Marcus let the liquid slosh down his throat until he felt a cough threaten to choke him. Quickly finishing the swig and coughing hoarsely, Marcus handed the bottle back to Baird, who was grinning, albeit this time with a bit of concern written on his face.

"...thanks," Marcus coughed.

"Uh-huh. Bairdsy thinks it's time to put the drinky aside before Marcuses-Marcusesy-ah fuck it...before Marcus tries to drown 'is dumbass self," Baird snickered, setting the bottle, now three quarters empty, down on the floor.

The alcohol firmly setting in, Marcus returned his gaze back to the floor. The action only seemed to confuse and frustrate Baird further, and the blonde-haired Gear shoved up against Marcus's side roughly. He instantly regretted the action and doubled over, grimacing. Marcus snapped to attention and looked at Baird in apprehension.

"Baird?" Marcus asked quickly.

"...fuck...shit," Baird snarled, clutching at his sides. "...yer' like hittin' a goddamn...brick wall..."

The alcohol had knocked down Marcus's defenses, and this time guilt stabbed at him sharply.

Even trying to distance himself and doing almost nothing, Marcus had managed to injure somebody. He gritted his teeth and ran his hands over his head. Panic suddenly seized him and he froze, afraid to bring his hands back into his view. There was nothing to say that his hands wouldn't be blood-soaked.

...not that they weren't proverbially covered in blood already.

As though noticing Marcus's sudden panic, Baird looked up slowly, frowning. Cautiously sitting up as straight as he could, Baird lifted a hand to lightly punch Marcus, but stopped when he saw that Marcus was trembling almost faintly enough to be unnoticeable.

"...'ey...," Baird muttered, leaning towards Marcus. "...'ey. Marcus?"

Marcus kept silent. Nothing he could say at this point would make anything better. Breathing out a slow, shuddering sigh, Marcus shut his eyes, as though he could somehow will the whole world away. He wanted to will the whole world away.

"Marcus."

Baird's voice was unexpectedly close, and though he didn't open his eyes or move his hands, Marcus shifted slightly, acknowledging the fact that Baird had spoken to him. He heard a low sigh of exasperation and expected that Baird would get bored enough with him and wander off. Baird only had so much patience, even drunk, and...

…and the blonde-haired Gear nuzzled against Marcus's arm.

Breathing in sharply, Marcus opened his eyes and slowly looked up. Baird was looking at him, or rather trying to, with a concerned frown. Sighing defeatedly, Marcus let his hands fall back down so they were in front of him, but he closed his eyes. He still just couldn't...risk it.

"...'at's better," Baird whispered.

Leaning forward, Baird kissed the side of Marcus's neck before nuzzling it gently. Carefully putting an arm on Marcus's shoulders, he pulled the dark-haired Gear to him. Marcus didn't resist. In fact, for all of his willing to put distance between himself and the rest of the world, he found himself setting his head on Baird's chest, trying not to focus on the fact that his heart was once again hammering against his chest.

Chuckling quietly, Baird tilted his head to one side slightly, eyeing Marcus. He hooked a finger under Marcus's chin, slowly pulling Marcus's gaze up to his.

"Yer' playin' hard to get," Baird teased. He leaned down and kissed Marcus firmly, grinning at Marcus's quiet grunt of surprise. Pulling back slightly, Baird winked down at Marcus. "...I always gotta' spell it out for ya', huh?"

"...no," Marcus finally answered, finding the word almost impossible to say.

"You want me to stop?" For the first time that evening, Baird's expression was serious, and he had the faintest hint of a sincere smile.

"No." As if to drive the point home, Marcus leaned up and kissed Baird deeply. A low chuckle escaped Baird's throat and he gently brushed his hand against Marcus's face. But when another stab of guilt managed to break through Marcus's already weakened defenses, he pulled away, frowning.

"...why'd ya' stop?" Baird asked quietly.

"...I'm sorry," Marcus whispered. "...I should have been quicker."

"Eh? ...the fuck're you talkin' 'bout?" Baird inquired, sounding confused.

"I..." Marcus fought to find the words. How did you explain to somebody that you'd failed to get them out of harm's way fast enough? That you'd let them suffer through blood loss, broken ribs, and cut lungs because you were too slow. How the hell did you put that sort of apology into words? Taking in a slow breath, Marcus desperately tried to piece together an even partially decent apology. "...I'm sorry. For not...getting you out of there fast-"

Baird cut him off with a kiss, smirking faintly. His hand traced along Marcus's jawline as Baird pulled away just enough that he could speak.

"...ya' suck at apologies," he snickered. "Ya' know that, right?"

"Yeah. I know."

"So how's about doin' somethin' yer' good at for a change, huh?" Baird asked, hooking a finger under Marcus's chin and pulling him into another kiss.

What was left of Marcus's defenses and desire to will the world away collapsed and he slowly sat up straight, almost forcibly pulling Baird to him as he kissed the blonde-haired Gear insistently. Making a pleased chuckle, Baird returned the affections, grinning at the taste of alcohol on Marcus's lips. He let Marcus have his way for a few moments longer before nipping at Marcus's lip and then slowly letting his kisses trail down Marcus's neck.

Growling softly, Marcus gripped Baird's arm carefully, his breathing almost as quick as his racing pulse. Baird didn't relent, and in fact seemed to be spurred on by Marcus's growl, finishing the last kiss by nuzzling his face against the side of Marcus's neck roughly. He lightly kissed Marcus's jaw and started to say something, but stopped when he heard the doors of the hallway that lead to the gym squeak open.

While Baird's response to the interruption was to lazily sit up and look over his shoulder as far as his bruised, injured ribs would allow, Marcus's response was anything but relaxed. He instantly tensed, his jaw setting and eyes narrowing. Turning, Baird grinned up at him and shook his head.

"Yer' always lookin' for a fight, huh...?" he snickered. He stood up from the bench, staggering slightly and clutching at his left side, before picking up the almost empty bottle. Looking down at Marcus, Baird winked quickly and jerked his head slightly, motioning for Marcus to follow him. "C'mon, ya' bullheaded dummy. There's gotta' be a quieter place 'n this..."

Casting a quick glare in the direction of the interruption, Marcus carefully stood up, realizing that he was drunker than he had initially estimated. Baird laughed at him and took a stumbling step back.

"Yer' drunk," he sneered.

Slowly looking over at Baird, Marcus raised an eyebrow as Baird stumbled again slightly.

"And you're not?"

"Pft...nope!" Baird proclaimed. He looked around and then headed towards the emergency exit of the gym. He paused at the door, looking at the alarm system before snorting derisively. "Goddamn thing's broken. Man...ya' can really tell that our safety's their priority, huh?"

"How the hell can you tell the system is broken just by looking at it?" Marcus asked in disbelief. The last thing he wanted was the alarm going off as they tried to exit the gym.

"Th' goddamn power cable's frayed an' the coupling's 're obviously busted," Baird grumbled, thumping his hand against the door.

Marcus just blinked at Baird. It would have been difficult enough to follow Baird's basic tech-talk sober, but drunk it was practically impossible. Sighing and rolling his eyes, Baird held up his hands, pretending to put two wires together.

"The itty-bitty wires ain't touchin', so th' electricity can't go through 'em, so that when this place catches on fire, we ain't gonna' know it until we're crispy critters. Got it?"

Marcus started to grin faintly, but at the memory of his nightmare, he grimaced, shaking his head slightly. Frowning, Baird shoved the door open quickly and stepped out into the fire escape hallway. He beckoned for Marcus to follow him, and Marcus obliged, letting the door shut behind him. Baird was already drunkenly making his way down the hallway, having to occasionally steady himself against the wall. Every time he lifted his arm to steady himself, though, Marcus heard Baird inhale sharply as he undoubtedly strained his recovering injuries.

Sighing heavily, Marcus doubled his pace until he was right behind Baird. He waited until Baird staggered again and then caught him before he steadied himself against the wall. Baird snickered and looked up at Marcus, raising an eyebrow.

"Aww...ya' do like me," he sneered.

"How much have you had to drink?" Marcus asked dubiously.

"Eh...'nuff, I guess," Baird muttered, looking at the almost empty bottle. He then grinned. "'nuff I'll let ya' have half of the last bit of this."

"You might want to consider letting me just finish that," Marcus advised. His world was already a little off-kilter, but judging by Baird's actions and slurred speech, Marcus was stone-sober compared to Baird.

"Greedy," Baird grumbled, frowning up at Marcus and poking Marcus's face lightly.

"Knock it off, Baird," Marcus sighed, shaking his head. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Baird murmured, standing up and walking down the fire escape hallway. He suddenly made a sharp left turn, and Marcus once again had to double his pace to keep up. For a drunk, Baird was still quick.

Finally, though, Baird stopped at a door and pushed it open. Marcus immediately recognized the place. It was the garage that Baird was almost always at during the day, working on some mechanism or another broken vehicle.

Following Baird out into the quiet and empty garage, Marcus glanced around. The lights were off, but the entire garage was enclosed, as was pretty much every other building on the base. No need in risking having the Kryll dive bomb an unfortunate Gear out on a midnight stroll. Baird had already climbed up into the back of a partially stripped down Packhorse and sat down, his back leaning against the back of one of the seats. He jerked his head slightly to motion for Marcus to come over. Marcus obliged, climbing up and sitting down beside Baird.

Baird stared at Marcus for a few minutes with an obviously frustrated look, waiting for Marcus to catch the stare.

"What?" Marcus asked, finally realizing that he was being stared at.

Rolling his eyes, Baird patted the floor of the Packhorse in front of him.

"You sure that's a good idea?" Marcus asked slowly.

"If yer' worried about cooties, I think yer' a bit late," Baird answered, rolling his eyes.

"I meant your injuries, Baird."

"Pft...'m fine," Baird replied flippantly. "Git over here."

Sighing, feeling just tired and drunk enough to not want to argue, Marcus sat down in front of Baird, laying back and leaning his head and shoulders against Baird's chest. He paused, waiting for Baird to either yelp in pain, shove him away, or both, but nothing happened. Instead, Baird cautiously began pulling at the do-rag Marcus was wearing.

"Why d'ya always wear this thing?" he asked.

"Regulations state that I can," Marcus replied, letting Baird pull the do-rag off.

"I din't ask 'bout regulations, ya' bull," Baird replied, poking the top of Marcus's head. "I was askin' why ya' chose to wear it."

"Because I can. I like it," Marcus answered with a shrug.

"Heh heh...ya' think it's sexy, huh?" Baird teased, tugging at Marcus's jet-black hair lightly.

"Can it, Baird," Marcus grumbled.

"So cranky..." Baird gently traced the scars on Marcus's face, letting his fingers then trace along Marcus's jaw. "Methinks somebody needs a nap."

Marcus looked up at Baird quickly.

"No," Marcus replied firmly. "That would be a very, very bad idea."

"What...? Nightmares again?" Baird asked. He didn't wait for an answer. "Don't worry 'bout it. I won't let the boogeyman get ya'."

It took Marcus a split second to remind himself that Baird didn't suffer from nightmares. Sighing heavily, Marcus shook his head.

"No, Baird. Just...no."

"Hrmph, fine." After a few moments, Baird held the bottle up in front of Marcus. "Drinky drinky."

"Are you going to want any more?"

"...nah," Baird finally said after much deliberation. "Ya' can have the rest." He suddenly leaned over slightly and poked Marcus's face lightly. "But only 'cuz yer' in worse need of a drink than me!"

Marcus responded by taking the bottle and finishing off the last of the alcohol, grimacing slightly at the burn. He set the empty bottle aside, smirking faintly when he felt Baird pat him on top of the head. Sighing heavily, Marcus looked up at one of the thick windows out at the dark night sky. A few pinpricks of stars glimmered against the black blue sky, but Marcus knew that there were undoubtedly swarms of Kryll flooding the night sky. Frowning at the thought, Marcus looked up at Baird, who grinned back at him drunkenly and quickly kissed him.

"Ya' really don't know how the alarm systems work here...?" Baird asked incredulously, sitting back up, wincing slightly.

"No," Marcus replied, shifting slightly and as carefully as he could.

"Pft, it's kid's stuff. First ya' got the main couplings and switches," Baird explained, making motions in the air with his hands. "Coupling's keep ever'thin' together, just like their name says. Switches 'r where all the main magic goes on. They've got wires goin'-"

Baird was cut short by Marcus's soft snoring and the blonde-haired Gear grinned smugly.

"Thought that'd put ya' to sleep," he murmured, leaning back against the seat of the Packhorse. He carefully smoothed back Marcus's hair before closing his eyes and letting the sleepy, alcohol-induced haze take over his senses. "Sleep well, Marcus..."

()

A blindingly sharp spear of agony shot up through Baird's left side and he jerked away with a strangled cry and he fought to drag himself awake. His head thudded painfully, but all Baird could feel at the moment was the white-hot pain in his left side.

It was at that point he realized that Marcus was fighting some unseen assailant, and he was doing so tooth and nail. Somehow, Baird had managed to sleep through Marcus already bloodying the knuckles on his right hand, and it looked like Marcus was doing a damn good job at bloodying his left hand as well. The dark-haired Gear snarled and made an almost panicked gasp before Baird could get his arms around Marcus's chest and arms, desperately trying to keep Marcus from injuring Baird or himself any further.

"Marcus!" Baird yelled, wincing as his voice echoed in his head. He was hungover, all right, but at this moment, a hangover was the least of his problems. "Marcus! Wake up!"

An angry curse escaped Marcus's gritted teeth as he fought against Baird's hold on him, but he was still somehow asleep despite Baird's yelling.

"Goddammit, Marcus Fenix, wake the fuck up!" Baird shouted, pain etched in his voice. He could feel his ribs creaking and threatening to give way. Marcus was about to undo most of the work that the doctor's had done, but Baird wasn't about to let Marcus go. The damn fool would hurt himself even worse, and if a couple re-cracked ribs were the price for keeping Marcus from literally beating himself up, then so be it.

"Marcus Fenix! Wake the fuck up, you stubborn son of a bitch!" Baird cried.

Suddenly Marcus stopped his struggling, and Baird looked down cautiously. Had he looked down a second later, he would have missed it. But he didn't. It was a look of pure helplessness in Marcus's eyes. It was only there for a split second before Marcus closed his eyes, groaning lowly. Baird kept his hold on Marcus, though, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"...Baird?" Marcus whispered.

"Holy shit," Baird grumbled, trying to hide the pain that was working its way into his voice. "What the...what the fuck was that? Was that one of your goddamn nightmares?"

"...you're alive, right...Baird?"

Pausing, Baird blinked, a little confused, before relaxing enough to rest his chin on the top of Marcus's head.

"Yeah, I'm alive," he murmured. "So are you."

Marcus reached up and lightly patted Baird's face, as though needing some sort of confirmation that what Baird said was true. Baird held still, nuzzling his face against Marcus's palm briefly before breathing out slowly.

"...shit," Marcus grumbled, sighing heavily. "I'm-"

"Shut up," Baird interrupted softly, still holding Marcus, albeit much gentler by this point. "...just...take a breath, yeah?"

Though he tried, Marcus's breathing was still shallow and shaky, and Baird frowned, trying to think of a way to get Marcus to calm the fuck down. He didn't have nightmares, and nightmares that were on the scale of Marcus's were a completely foreign concept to Baird. ...but he still had to try.

"Marcus?"

"...yeah?"

"Do you remember where you are?"

"...the...not the farmhouse. The base, right?"

That goddamn farmhouse. If it wasn't already in ashes Baird swore he was going to go back there and torch the thing to the ground.

"Yeah, the base," Baird confirmed. "Do you remember where in the base...?"

There was nothing but silence, and Baird could feel Marcus's heartbeat hammering against his chest. Shit, at this rate, Marcus was apt to give himself a heart attack. Sighing, Baird lightly pressed the side of his face against Marcus's. Marcus felt like he was freezing and Baird breathed out slowly, trying to think of another way to get Marcus to calm down.

"...you're not dead?" Marcus repeated, this time his voice was threatening to crack.

"I'm not dead," Baird whispered. He was frustrated with Marcus's reluctance to snap out of whatever residual trauma the nightmare had left, but his focus on getting Marcus to relax overrode his frustration. "I'm right here."

"...right."

"Did you think I was?"

Though he didn't say anything, Marcus reached up and clutched at Baird's right arm tightly. That said enough, and Baird sighed heavily.

"You dumbass," Baird chuckled quietly. "There's no way you're getting rid of me that easily."

"I don't...I..." Once again, Marcus found himself fumbling for words and he growled in mounting frustration.

"I know," Baird said quickly. He then smirked. "You're not as mysterious as you want to be, Marcus."

"...hrm. ...Baird?"

"Yeah?"

"Did I hurt you?"

Glancing over at his right shoulder, Baird frowned slightly at the sight of a dark red teardrop of blood beginning to seep through his shirt. Shit, he must've managed to rip some of the stitches free. Quickly turning his attention back to Marcus, Baird cleared his throat.

"Nah, you didn't hurt me. You're a strong and clumsy bull, but you're not that strong," Baird laughed quietly. "You did manage to hurt your dumbass self, though."

Reaching down and picking up Marcus's right hand, Baird sighed heavily. Marcus had bruised and bloodied his knuckles something fierce, but Marcus seemed unfazed by the injuries and instead tightly gripped Baird's hand.

"I hurt you, didn't I?" Marcus finally asked.

"What are you deaf?" Baird retorted, mildly irritated. "I said I'm fine."

Falling silent again, Marcus finally took a deep breath that wasn't shuddering, and Baird sighed in relief quietly.

"Goddammit, you big lunkhead," Baird grumbled. "You scared the shit out of me, you know that?"

"Sor-"

"Don't say you're sorry," Baird interrupted. "Unless you did it on purpose. Now if you had that screaming shitfest on purpose and scared the hell out of me on purpose, then yeah, you're damn right you're sorry. Sorry enough you'd better be ready to grovel at my boots for the next two weeks and hand over any chocolate those asshole higher ups ever deem us worthy of having in our rations."

"...you've really thought that part through, huh?" Marcus asked after a pause.

"Damn right I have."

Smiling weakly, Marcus sighed heavily again, letting his eyes close for a few minutes.

"Do you know how long it is until first call?" he muttered to Baird.

"About an hour." Baird tilted his head to one side slightly. "...you want to stay here until then?"

"Yeah."

"Can do."

Breathing out slowly, Baird once again rested his chin on the top of Marcus's head. The two stared out of the large windows in the garage as rays of sunlight began to pierce through the grey clouds and morning haze.


	3. Chapter 3

"Do I make myself clear, Sergeant?"

Looking over at the tall, blond-haired Colonel, Marcus bit back a scathing retort and instead nodded shortly.

"Crystal, sir," he replied tersely.

"Good," Darrows said, smiling smugly. Marcus wanted nothing more than to wipe, or rather, punch, that condescending, snake-like grin off Darrows' face, but he stood still.

"Anything else, sir?" Marcus asked.

"One other thing," Darrows stated, holding up a finger. "If Corporal Baird pulls any level of insubordination, arrest him on the spot. Colonel Loomis may have been forgiving in his charges, but I will not be."

His jaw setting, Marcus remained silent. He had nothing good to say to Darrows at this point, and about the nicest thing Marcus could think of at the moment involved questioning the marital state of Darrows' parents when the Colonel was conceived.

"Understood, Sergeant Fenix?" Darrows asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," Marcus growled back. "There will be no insubordination on Corporal Baird's part."

"So glad to hear it," Darrows answered, slowly turning his attention back to a map on his desk. "You're dismissed, Sergeant."

Nodding and exiting Darrows' office as quickly as he could without running, Marcus stalked out into the hallway. Darrows was purposefully pushing every button Marcus had, and doing a damn good job at it, too. Shit, the bastard was almost as bad as Baird for getting on Marcus's last nerve.

Except Baird knew when to quit...he just chose to ignore that stopping point. Darrows, on the other hand, either didn't know or didn't care, and it was downright maddening to watch somebody so flagrantly abuse their power of command.

Walking to the garage, Marcus mulled over the orders that Darrows had so generously given them.

Marcus was to take Baird, Clay, and Harris to a large mansion turned science lab to retrieve data on a weapons system that, according to Darrows, would give them a significant edge in fighting the grubs. Personally Marcus thought it was another way that Darrows had found to waste resources and put Gears at risk, but he was in no place to argue. If anything, he could ask Baird about the weapons system later and see if actually was worth anything.

Entering the garage, Marcus narrowed his eyes slightly at being hit by the blast of hot, stifling air that seemed to be unique to the garage. Baird was busy working on an Armadillo, the blond-haired Gear lying on his back underneath the armored vehicle.

"Having fun?"

Obviously not expecting anybody in the garage, Baird suddenly jerked and there was a metallic clang of his forehead meeting some piece of metal under the Armadillo. Immediately a string of expletives followed, and Baird kicked the ground futilely as he tried to mitigate some of the pain.

"Was up until some dark-haired Sergeant started yakking and ruining my concentration," came the hissed reply. He slid out from underneath the Armadillo and glared up at Marcus. "What do you want?"

"New orders from Colonel Darrows."

"Oh man," Baird groaned, rolling his eyes and letting his head lightly fall back on the concrete. "What does that windbag want now?"

"We're to retrieve the data and schematics of a weapons system that's currently being used at an old mansion turned science facility."

"Another one of his goddamn ghost hunts?"

"Doesn't sound like it. Showed me the map of the area and looks like everything's there. We just have to retrieve it."

"You sure it was Darrows, then?" Baird asked, frowning and adjusting his goggles. "That ninny almost never has his shit in gear. He's worse than this Armadillo with a busted transmission."

"He also said I'm to arrest you on the spot if you display any insubordination."

"Oh good!" Baird said in sarcastically cheery tone. "It was Darrows. I mean, poor little me just couldn't take it if the bastard tragically disappeared and we never heard from him again."

"What? Heart can't handle that much joy?" Marcus asked, crossing his arms.

"Pretty much," Baird confirmed, standing up and dusting himself off. He almost never worse the coveralls that were provided for the base mechanics, preferring to stick with a white, and now oil stained and grease smattered, T-shirt and a pair of tattered combat fatigues.

"We leave in three hundred hours," Marcus advised. He glanced over Baird quickly. It had been months since the farmhouse incident, and Baird had been given a clean bill of health. Even so, Marcus felt uneasy of throwing Baird back into the fray. "You doing okay?"

Pausing in the middle of putting tools away, Baird turned away from the work table and grinned at Marcus.

"Hold the presses ladies and gentlemen," Baird said smugly, holding up his hands and swaggering towards Marcus. "Is the big, bad Sergeant Fenix worried about the insubordinate Corporal Baird? What? Afraid I'm still broken?"

"Your sarcasm obviously isn't," Marcus retorted, glancing around the garage. They were alone. At least, for the moment. "But I meant your ribs, asshole."

"Aw, you do care," Baird crooned, stepping closer to Marcus until he was just a few inches from the Sergeant.

In response, Marcus grabbed Baird's shoulders and pulled him close, kissing him roughly. Baird chuckled and gently grasped Marcus's face, his fingers running along Marcus's jawline. Deepening the kiss, Marcus carefully backed Baird against the Armadillo, grinning when he heard Baird make a quiet grunt of surprise. Baird's hands slipped up and he momentarily grasped at the back of Marcus's neck.

"Somebody's getting bolder," Baird murmured smugly, nipping at Marcus's bottom lip.

"Bold nothing," Marcus answered, kissing Baird again, more or less pinning him against the Armadillo. "Just making sure you're healed up before we go charging into grub-infested turf again."

"Yeah, well...last check for good measure...and because I'm a greedy son of a bitch." Kissing Marcus firmly before pulling back, Baird grinned confidently. "Yep. Good to go. Thanks for the concern there, Sarge."

Leaning back against the Armadillo, Baird crossed his arms, keeping his grin.

"So...we get to go after a weapons system, huh?" he asked.

"Yeah. Darrows says it's got some sort of way to track the grubs and will help with the turrets and automated defense systems."

"It track them by their stench or what?" Baird asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because if so I think half the bastards on this base are in trouble. You'd think they'd forgotten what a shower was."

"You're not a bunch of roses yourself, Baird."

"Hey, I shower...often enough!"

"Whatever you say, blondie."

()

The Raven buzzed through the air, its rotors tearing through the wispy clouds. Sitting in his seat, Harris peeked over the edge of the passenger hold cautiously, whistling when he could barely see the ground below them. Beside Harris, Clay lightly tapped on the top of Harris's helmet.

"Don't fall," Clay teased.

Jerking slightly, Harris looked over his shoulder at Clay.

"Shit, Carmine! You scared the hell out of me!"

"It's Clay...or Clayton, whichever," Clay corrected. "And stop being such a sissy. Not like I was going to push you off or anything."

"...well, yeah, I'd hope so," Harris answered slowly.

"I gotta' have somebody distract the grubs while I shoot them."

Harris just stared at Clay, then looked over at Marcus, who was looking out at the ground on the other side of the Raven.

"Sir? Sergeant Fenix?"

Turning his gaze to Harris, Marcus nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

"What's keeping this weapons system from turning on us?" Harris asked. "Or...could the grubs have changed it so that it tracks Gears instead?"

"Hell if I know," Marcus grumbled, shrugging. "Ask the blond genius over there."

"Yeah, but...he yells at me," Harris muttered.

"Awww, poor rookie," Clay crooned, patting the top of Harris's helmet roughly. "He's afraid of the mean, 'ole Baird's squawking!"

"Hey! Cut it out!" Harris swatted at Clay's hand quickly, grumbling under his breath.

"Hey, Baird!" Clay yelled.

Baird was fast asleep, having nodded off in his seat in the Raven. Harris blinked and then looked over at Clay.

"How the hell can he sleep through all this noise?"

"Beats the shit out of me," Clay replied. He picked up a roll of rope and hurled it at Baird. "Baird!"

The rope smacked Baird in the chest, and he promptly woke up...and none too happy. Almost immediately in response, Clay pointed over at Harris, who had changed his gaze back to the ground below the Raven. Focusing his scowl on Harris, Baird balled the rope up and threw it at the Private, hitting Harris square in the helmet.

With a short yelp, Harris quickly pulled the rope off his helmet and looked at Baird in startled confusion.

"What the fuck do you want, rookie?" Baird hissed.

"See? He always yells at me," Harris said, looking over at Clay.

"Yeah, I see that," Clay agreed, desperately fighting back the urge to laugh.

"I was asking Sergeant Fenix if the weapons system might shoot at us or if the grubs could have turned it against us," Harris explained to Baird, a little wary of anything else being thrown at him.

"How the hell should I know?" Baird snapped back. "The last guys at that place could have gone cuckoo bananas for all I know and made it so that the weapons shoot anything bigger than a flea."

"Oh...so...what are we going to do, then?"

"Send you in first, asshole," Baird replied, sitting back in his seat.

Harris looked over in mute panic at Clay, who shrugged.

"Sorry, rookie. Ladies first and all that."

Sighing heavily, Harris let his head fall back against the back of his seat. He knew the hoops that he'd have to jump through to get promoted, and the bureaucratic bullshit that it entailed, but he was more than ready to get rid of the title 'Private' in front of his name.

Marcus had watched the entire scene unfold, then gave Clay a pointed look, who shrugged innocently in response.

"What?" Clay asked.

"You should know better than to sic Baird on unsuspecting rookies like that."

"Ahhh, rookie needs to toughen up. Little pansy gets babied enough as it is. Probably going to go running to Dom once this is all over anyways. Rookie practically worships the ground he walks on, anyways."

"I do not!" Harris protested...a bit too loudly.

The other three Gears looked at Harris in a mix of surprise and suspicion, and Harris immediately ducked his head. Clay began prodding lightly at the side of Harris's helmet.

"Rookie has a boyfriend, rookie has a boyfriend."

"I do not and cut it out!" Harris protested, once again swatting Clay's hand away.

"You're going to have to go through Marcus first, though," Clay laughed. "Doesn't let anybody near his brother."

"I'm not going to have to go through anybody because I'm not dating Dom, you idiot!" Harris practically yelled. "Besides, I already have a girlfriend!"

"Oh, so you're a swinger, huh?" Clay continued.

"...I am going to throw you off this helicopter," Harris threatened flatly.

"Take your best shot, rookie," Clay challenged.

"Enough, you two," Marcus interrupted. He then looked at Harris and smirked faintly. "Besides, Dom's pretty picky about the kind of brunette he dates."

Sighing and making a quiet whimper of defeat, Harris hung his head. At this rate, he might be better off being kidnapped by the Locust.

()

As the Raven began to descend, Marcus took a good, long look at the building. Darrows hadn't been kidding when he had referred to the thing as a "sprawling mansion." It looked like two L's had been set on their side and put together, with the remnants of what had been lush gardens surrounding it. The greenery had long since wilted and turned brown, but a few last remnants of living grass and shrubbery were visible.

The Raven was circling the mansion slowly, and while it looked to be in fairly decent shape, all things considered, Marcus could already see a couple of Drones milling around. The Raven was still high enough that they hadn't noticed it, and Marcus could only hope their luck held out.

"We've got company," Marcus advised.

"Should we break out the welcome wagon?" Clay asked, motioning to the mounted machine gun in the belly of the Raven.

"Not yet," Marcus replied, shaking his head. "We run the risk of damaging something inside the mansion that we may need."

"Aww...dammit," Clay grumbled. "I never get to have any fun."

"We'll drop you off towards the rear entrance," the Raven pilot announced. "Looks like there aren't any grubs there."

"Pft, and here I was wanting the red carpet entrance," Baird said sarcastically.

The Raven buzzed as low as it could to the ground, and Marcus grabbed one of the ropes that they would be using to slide down from the helicopter to the ground.

"Baird, let's go," Marcus ordered with a slight jerk of his head. "Clay, Harris, you're up next once Baird and I are on the ground."

"Whee," Baird grumbled, grabbing the other rope and sliding down. "Raven Airways guarantees sprained ankles and rope burns or your money back."

Marcus followed suit, and once his boots hit the ground, he pressed his fingers against the tac comm in his ear.

"Clay, Harris, get your asses down here."

A high-pitched, almost mechanical sounding scream hummed lowly in the air, and Baird looked up and he suddenly began waving at the Raven furiously. Marcus recognized the sound just moments later, and he began shouting into the tac comm hurriedly.

"Scratch that! Get out of there! You've got mortars incoming! Get the hell out of there!"

Realizing the threat, the pilot instinctively immediately swerved the Raven to the right, and for a few split seconds, it looked as though Clay had been thrown free of the Raven. Harris's hand shot out and grabbed Clay's arm, while Harris had his other arm wrapped around the stand of the mounted machine gun tightly.

"Shit, shit, shit! Holy shit!" Clay yelled. He managed to swing his other arm up so that he had both hands on Harris's.

"Hang on!" Harris cried through gritted teeth. It felt as though Clay was going to rip his arm off, but there was no way he was letting the Gear plummet to an almost certain death.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Clay shouted back.

More mortars began to hail down from the sky, and the pilot wildly veered the Raven, desperate to avoid being hit. One of the mortars clipped the tail of the Raven, sending it spinning for a few minutes. Even without the tac comm, Marcus could hear Clay yelling. So far, though, Harris seemed to be doing a good job of keeping Clay from falling to the ground below.

"Grubs know we're here!" Marcus yelled to Baird. "Get inside the mansion!"

"What about the Raven?" Baird asked, looking between Marcus and the Raven as it slowly began to stabilize.

"I've got to get this thing landed before we crash!" the pilot yelled in panic over the tac comm. "This zone is way too hot!"

"Get clear of the mortars!" Marcus ordered over the tac comm. He and Baird were already racing across the long abandoned gardens towards the rear entrance of the mansion. "Baird and I will proceed with the mission! Just be ready to evac us!"

"There's no way you guys can go on your own!" Clay protested.

"We'll handle it!" Marcus retorted.

"You just worry about all the frequent flyer miles you've just racked up!" Baird added.

"Fuck you, Baird! Fuck you, you fucking fuck!" came the furious reply

"Get inside!" Marcus yelled to Baird.

The two sprinted across the dead gardens as the ground around them exploded into plumes of dead foliage, dirt, and molten slag. They zig-zagged towards the small metal door that, at the moment seemed as though it was miles away.

"Goddammit! Incoming!" Baird warned, vaulting over a broken vase.

A fresh storm of mortars thundered down onto the ground, but by this point, Marcus had reached the door. He slammed his shoulder against it, and the door fortunately gave way. Darting inside, Marcus waited until Baird was safely inside the mansion as well before slamming the door shut. Baird had already grabbed a large supply crate and dragged it in front of the back door, barricading it. It wouldn't hold a Drone off for very long, but it was better than nothing.

The two Gears paused to catch their breaths, and Marcus looked around quickly, scanning their surroundings. They were in a service hallway of sorts, and it was quiet.

That is, until Baird suddenly yelped and began frantically combing his fingers through his blond hair.

"Goddammit! Got some of that slag in my fucking hair! Great...now I smell almost as bad as those goddamn grubs," Baird snarled. He winced and rubbed the back of his head. "Burned the shit out of my head, too. Now I know what a goddamn marshmallow on a stick feels like."

"I think you'll live," Marcus interjected. "But you've always been a bit of a marshmallow there, princess."

"Fuck you, too, then," Baird grumbled, shouldering his Lancer. "Can we go while we're still young?"

"Yeah, let's go," Marcus agreed.

The two started walking down the hallway, their footfalls echoing ominously through long abandoned hallway. Looking around slowly, Marcus could see claw marks and bullet holes that riddled the concrete.

"Grubs have already torn this place a new one," Marcus commented quietly. "We'll be lucky if they left anything intact."

"We'll be lucky if we're left intact," Baird grumbled. "Goddamn Locust were milling all over place when we flew in."

"Yeah. I saw."

"There's no way they'd be after that system," Baird continued. "Stinking grubs were probably looking for survivors."

"Here's hoping they found this place deserted."

"Hey, I'm more than happy to greet them. My Lancer's been lonely for a conversational partner. Seems it only gets in one argument before the other guy's suddenly lost the will to speak."  
"Yeah, well the rest of us aren't complaining that your Lancer doesn't have a goddamn pen pal," Marcus retorted.

"Such a cranky bull," Baird grumbled. "What? You don't like getting shot at by mortars before ten in the morning? I can't start my day if I don't get to run for my life at least once."

"Shut it, Baird," Marcus sighed in exasperation. "Your yakkin' is going to alert every grub in this place."

"Oh get over it," Baird sneered. He tilted his head slightly towards the ceiling. "Those little shits are still bombing the hell out of the gardens out there. They couldn't hear a Leviathan with severe stomach distress charging through an Imulsion plant at this point."

"And what's to say that some of those little shits aren't down here in the service tunnels?"

"Well then we must have stumbled across the clan of yellow-bellied, chickenshit, reject, little shit Locusts, because they sure as hell aren't attacking. If they're even here."

"Are you _trying_ to get your blond ass arrested with that much back talk?" Marcus asked, glancing over his shoulder at Baird.

"Damn, you're getting kinky on me already and breaking out the handcuffs?" Baird retorted, raising an eyebrow. "We've had, what, like one drinking night together and already I need to come up with a safe word? Shit, man, you don't give a guy a break, do you?"

Grumbling under his breath as he walked towards a service elevator, Marcus didn't answer Baird. Now the blond-haired Gear was just pushing every button he could, and judging by Baird's smug grin, he was pleased with his progress so far.

"Get your ass in the elevator before I decide to leave you down here," Marcus muttered, standing inside the service elevator.

Chuckling and stepping over the elevator threshold, Baird glanced over at the control panel and pressed the 'UP' button. The elevator hummed to life and began to slowly ascend. Suddenly one of the pulleys shrieked in protest as it jammed, and though the elevator continued upwards, the metallic shrieking only got worse

Both Gears immediately drew their Lancers to the ready, Baird flinching slightly against the metallic scream.

"Goddammit! If the grubs didn't know we were here, they sure as hell know now!"

"Shut up and be ready!" Marcus replied angrily. He hated machines sometimes. Marcus would never understand how Baird dealt with the damn things on a regular basis without losing his mind.

As the elevator screeched to a halt, the doors opened with an ironically cheerful dinging noise, and sure enough, there were about four Wretches already rounding the corner at full tilt. Marcus didn't even need to give the order as he and Baird opened fire on the smaller Locust. The bullets ripped through their flesh, but didn't deter them. With the same blood-crazed determination that all the other Locust had, the Wretches continued their suicidal charge forward.

One of the Wretches at the forefront collapsed and skidded on the slick floor, causing the two behind it to trip over its still twitching corpse. Having lost their momentum, the other two Wretches were quickly dispatched. The last one managed to leap over its fallen compatriots, but Marcus lunged forward and swung his Lancer upwards, the chainsaw bayonet revving and tearing through the Wretches' throat. It made one last gurgled shriek before thudding to the floor.

"Let's go, let's go," Marcus ordered.

The two Gears jogged out of the elevator and found themselves in a large hallway, the marble walls adorned with various displays, all of which were in multiple stages of disrepair. It looked as though the bedrooms of the mansion had been converted into display rooms, though most of them had been blocked off after E-Day. Even so, it looked as though the Locust hadn't really cared about the red velvet coated ropes used to close off the rooms, and as Marcus and Baird quickly made their way down the hallway, they could see that the doors were either swung open, broken open, or missing completely.

"I guess the Locust don't really care for museums, huh?" Baird commented.

"Maybe they're more of an opera bunch," Marcus answered.

The two came to another hallway that intersected the one they were currently jogging down. Marcus looked over to Baird, who was already glancing at the various plaques indicating the sections of the museum.

"Which way, Baird?"

"Administration offices," Baird replied. He motioned to the plaque that read 'Defense Display.' "Should be right past the Defense Display. Wonder how much of a laugh the grubs got at stomping on all the shit that was supposed to hold them off..."

"Guess we're gonna' find out," Marcus grumbled.

The two once again began jogging down the hallway, but as they drew closer to the double doors that led to the Defense Display, Marcus swore he could hear the sound of rushing water. Glancing over at Baird, Marcus jerked his head slightly.

"You hear water?"

"Yeah, probably one of the service tunnels is flooded. This thing has a basement, too," Baird answered. "If the grubs went through and wrecked everything, there's a good chance that either a service tunnel, or the basement, or both, got flooded. But hey, least it makes this place lakeside property now, huh?"

"...wonderful," Marcus muttered. He was never really fond of the water, and the idea that he and Baird were running over a potentially flooded area didn't sit well with him. Not to mention that in full armor, there was no way that Marcus or Baird could swim if needed. And if the water was over their heads...

Marcus quickly shoved aside the thought. Of all the ways to die, drowning was one of the most sinister.

Stopping at the double doors, Marcus put a hand on the door handle of the door that was slightly ajar. He glanced inside the room quickly, but saw nothing except a bunch of destroyed dioramas. Looking over at Baird, Marcus nodded slightly, and Baird readied his Lancer. Shoving the door open, both Marcus and Baird quickly scanned the room through the sights of their Lancers. All they saw were the destroyed dioramas, broken displays, and the floor was littered with pamphlets, flyers, and the debris from the destroyed museum presentations.

"Aw man," Baird grumbled. "Looks like we missed the tour and everything. Goddamn pilot should've flown faster, I tell you."

"Can it, Baird," Marcus snapped. They had to be getting close to the Locust at this point, especially after the Wretches, and Baird's yakking was going to do nothing but draw the Locust to them.

Fortunately, though, Baird fell silent, and he looked around the room slowly. He then jerked his head slightly towards the rear of the large, circular room.

"C'mon," Baird said lowly. "This way. Should be an elevator up to the administrative level."

Nodding, Marcus followed Baird through the room. The Defense Display room was a large, circular room with exits on the left and right sides, both of which led to other marble hallways. At one point, it must have been a very impressive sight to behold when the room wasn't utterly destroyed. But now...it was a very sobering walk, to see miniature models of the Hammer of Dawn, the Lightmass Missile, King Raven helicopters, and even a pictorial representation of the evolution of the Lancer...all of them were destroyed. Small piles of rubble, broken marble walls and display stands, were scattered around the floor. Smashed into pieces, ripped apart, or even stomped on, the Locust seemed to have taken a very sincere interest in obliterating the replicas of the weaponry that had been meant to stop them.

Sighing heavily and shaking his head, Marcus focused on following Baird. If the blond had been disturbed by the destruction of all the displays and dioramas, Baird didn't show it. He kept walking to the back of the circular display room where a small wall and a corded off elevator were set against the wall. As Baird nonchalantly kicked aside the red velvet covered cords and stands, he walked over to the elevator control panel, inspecting it carefully. Glancing around quickly, Marcus cradled his Lancer in his arms. He could hear scuffling outside in the hallway they had just been in, and the Sergeant had a sinking suspicion that the Locust were closing in on their position.

"Baird, we're about to have company," Marcus warned.

"Just working on this elevator control panel," Baird muttered in response. "Should be just a few more minutes."

"You've got about thirty seconds," Marcus retorted quickly. He could hear the doors starting to rattle slightly as the Locust drew closer. "...goddammit, Baird. Hurry the hell up...!"

"Workin' on it as fast as I can, Marcus," Baird hissed. But Marcus could hear the frustration and tension in Baird's voice, and he realized that thirty seconds wasn't enough time to get the elevator working.

"You keep working on getting that damn control panel working," Marcus muttered, bringing his Lancer up. Fortunately he and Baird had a large, waist-high barrier that had been used as a sort of deterrent for visitors to keep them from accessing the elevator. While it really was mostly for looks, it would at least provide cover when the Locust showed up.

And as if on cue, the Locust broke into the Defense Display room. It was three Drones from the looks of it, but Marcus could already hear the lumbering steps of a Boomer. As the Drones drew their weapons, Marcus grabbed Baird by the shoulder and forcibly pulled him down to the floor.

"Keep your blond head down, genius!" Marcus snapped.

"I almost got the control panel!" Baird replied angrily over the noise of the gunfire.

"Yeah well the Locust almost got you!"

Narrowing his eyes, Baird crawled over and began fumbling somewhat blindly with the control panel, trying to get the last bit of wiring pieced back together. Standing up quickly, Marcus trained his Lancer on the closest Drone, firing three consecutive, concentrated bursts before ducking back down to cover. He looked over at Baird.

"You almost done there, blondie?" Marcus inquired loudly.

"Workin' on it, workin' on it! Things would go a lot faster if I didn't have these goddamn bullets flying at my fuckin' head!"

"How about forgettin' about the damn control panel for about two seconds and shoot some goddamn grubs?!"

Snarling in frustration, Baird stood up from the cover that the wall was providing and fired at the Drone that Marcus had already wounded. It staggered and fell to its hands and knees, but wasn't completely dead.

"Goddammit, you turd with teeth! Stay dead!" Baird shouted, firing another wild burst of gunfire.

The bullets ripped into the Drone's skull and throat, and it collapsed to the floor, twitching in its last few death throes.

"There! Scratch one grub!" Baird yelled triumphantly.

"We've still got two more and a Boomer!" Marcus retorted, standing up and firing at the next Drone that had been foolish enough to leave the cover it had found behind a display stand.

"God-fucking-dammit!" Baird hissed. He turned his attention back to the Locust, and began firing a steady burst of gunfire at the Boomer who had tromped into the room and was slowly advancing towards them. "I'm tryin' to do some very delicate wiring work, here, you inconsiderate assholes! Go bug your goddamn bitch Queen!"

"Less yammering, more shooting!" Marcus ordered.

"What does it look like I'm doin'!?"

The Drone that Marcus had focused fire on stumbled and collapsed to the floor, blood trickling from the assortment of bullet holes in its chest and neck, but the Boomer, regardless of its injuries, only kept advancing. Gritting his teeth, Marcus rapidly reloaded his Lancer, then looked over his shoulder at Baird, who had just finished emptying a clip of Lancer ammo into the Boomer.

"I'll deal with the Boomer!" Marcus shouted. "Just get that elevator working!"

"Get the elevator working, Baird," the blond-haired Gear grumbled sarcastically, his voice once again hitting a high-pitched, nasal tone. "Shoot the Locust, Baird! Get the elevator working, Baird! Make up your goddamn mind!"

"I'll be shootin' you next if you don't can it!"

Growling loudly, Baird worked on the wiring as quickly as he could, flinching as a few bullets pinged very close to his hand. One actually bounced off the wall and pegged him in the face, leaving a small burn on his cheek. Cursing but refusing to lose his focus, Baird continued to work on the control panel...and finally it beeped to life.

"Got it!" Baird yelled. "Next time, I'm bringin' JACK! I don't give a shit what Darrows says!"

Hearing the elevator motor kick in, Marcus looked over momentarily at the glass doors. They were still shut, but the Sergeant could see via the reflection the elevator lowering to the floor they were on. They just had to hold out for a bit longer.

"Baird! We gotta' take this Boomer down before he's standing on us!" Marcus ordered. He hadn't fired upon any Locust save for the Boomer, but the damn, hulking thing had refused to go down. It was limping heavily, but it still was advancing towards the two Gears.

"On it!"

Between the focused fire of both Marcus and Baird, the Boomer finally fell to his knees before slumping over to his side. The air reeked of gunsmoke, dust, and Locust blood, but they still had one Drone to deal with. Grabbing one of the frag grenades he was carrying, Marcus tossed it over at where the Drone was hiding behind a large display spread. He grinned grimly when he heard the Drone snarl in horrified surprise, and as the Locust darted out of cover to avoid being ripped apart by the frag grenade, both Marcus and Baird opened fire on the Drone. The bullets did the damage that the frag grenade would have, and the Drone tripped in mid-step, falling to his stomach and sprawling on the ground as the last drops of his life bled from him.

Behind the two Gears, the elevator dinged happily, and Baird glanced over as the doors slid open.

"Ding! Elevator's here! All aboard for sports goods, lady's lingerie, and weapons systems!" Baird announced.

"Just get inside!" Marcus ordered.

Darting into the elevator, Baird set a hand on the doorframe, waiting for Marcus. As the Sergeant rushed inside the elevator, the unmistakable sound of Locust, and a lot of them at that, began to rattle the air. Hells, their footsteps were causing the floor to rattle and the broken displays to shudder.

"...shit," Marcus cursed.

At least seven Drones rushed into the Defense Display room, their guns blazing. The low, rumbling voices of what sounded about two Boomers followed, and there was even the shrieks of Wretches as they began to round the corner and dart into the Defense Display room.

"Oh holy shit!" Baird cried, slamming his palm on the 'Close Doors' button. "We're goddamn sitting ducks, Marcus!"

The doors began to slowly slide shut, but as one of the Drones started to open fire, the bullets managed to fly through the gap between the doors and pinged at the back of the elevator.

"Fuck! Marcus! Watch it!" Baird shouted, shoving Marcus out of the way of the bullets. Unfortunately, as he staggered, Baird felt a bite of white-hot pain in his left arm as a bullet ripped through the thick mesh of his underarmor. "Gah...! ...goddammit! Goddamn grubs!"

The doors slid shut and Marcus quickly grabbed Baird by his uninjured arm.

"Baird! Are you hit?"

"Yeah, I'm fuckin' hit!" Baird snapped back through gritted teeth. "But I'll live...! Just a graze. One of the little bastards got lucky."

Nodding slightly, Marcus stood up, but watched Baird closely as the blond stood up. Shrugging and wincing, Baird gave Marcus a cocky grin.

"You actually worried about little, 'ole me?"

"You're the only one that can pull that weapons system setup out of the computers here, smartass," Marcus retorted, glaring at Baird.

"Pft...you sure that's all?" Baird asked slyly, walking over to Marcus.

Sighing, Marcus gave Baird a tired look. No, that wasn't all, but Marcus couldn't lose his focus right now. He'd already slipped up, and Baird had been injured. Guilt had started to snake its way into Marcus's conscious and he frowned darkly at the elevator doors, which were now flecked with the faint indents of bullet marks. Catching the sudden change of demeanor, Baird snorted and shook his head, backing up.

"Fine. Whatever," he grumbled, cradling his Lancer. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence as the elevator began to slow to a stop, Baird glanced over at Marcus. "How the hell are we gonna' get through that grub-fest once we're done here?"

"I'll figure something out," Marcus answered shortly.

"Okay, then," Baird snapped, rolling his eyes. "Mister gotta' play hero Marcus Fenix."

Marcus gave Baird a pointed look that the blond ignored, but Marcus didn't feel like arguing at this point. He was already starting to get an uneasy feeling because the more he thought about it, the worse it got. If they'd had Clay and Harris with them, they might have stood a chance against the mass of Locust. As it stood right now, though, there was only two of them, and the odds were at least three to one, if not more by this point. Marcus's view of the Defense Display had been obscured right in the middle of him watching even more Locust flood the room.

Looking over at Baird again, Marcus could see a couple of rivulets of dark blood dripping down Baird's arm. The snake of guilt struck, and it struck hard. Marcus hadn't been paying attention, and Baird had had to watch his back...and paid the price for it. It was a situation that Marcus was bitterly familiar with. Those he dragged into battles with him usually ended up paying the ultimate price, regardless of Marcus's best efforts to prevent that.

And then there was Baird...

The sarcastic, acid-tongued jackass that Marcus was willing to put everything on the line for. The one that Marcus should be the most vigilant over.

...and the one that had been injured the moment that Marcus made the mistake of letting his guard down, even slightly.

"Marcus!"

Baird's voice snapped Marcus out of his thoughts and he looked over at the blond, raising an eyebrow slightly. The elevator had stopped and Baird was staring at him with a mix of annoyance and what looked to be concern.

"What the hell is wrong with you, man?" Baird asked. "I've been talkin' to you for about the past three minutes and you've been off in la-la land! I probably could've burst into goddamn flames and been runnin' in circles around you and you would've just stood there."

Staring at Baird as the blond regaled him with the rather creative details of just how deep in thought Marcus had been, the Sergeant sighed heavily and shook his head.

"Nothing," he muttered. "Let's go."

"Uhh...Marcus, we're here," Baird said, motioning to the open elevator doors. He took a step towards Marcus, raising an eyebrow. "You sure you're alright? You're not gettin' all weird on me, are you?"

"No," Marcus answered, steeling over his voice. "Move it, blondie. We still have a job to do."

Grinning, Baird walked out into the computer room, looking around. There was a main desk of computers off against the far wall, while at four larger power and control panels were to each side of the main desk. Readouts and the low, electrical hum emanated from the power/control panels, and strings of code wildly rushed by on the screens of the computers on the main desk. While most of it made about as much sense as quantum physics to Marcus, Baird seemed to be right at home, looking around with a big, almost contented grin on his face.

"Holy shit," he muttered. "Will you take a look at this shit, Marcus? This is some high-grade stuff. Looks like Darrows might actually be onto somethin' this time."

"That's nice, Baird," Marcus muttered, looking around the room slowly.

"'Nice?'" Baird repeated incredulously, still looking at the main computer desk. "This is beyond nice, Marcus. These bastards must've been growin' money on trees to get this kind of stuff. You've got enough processors to power half our fuckin' computer systems back at the base, the databases alone could house over-"

Baird stopped and looked over his shoulder at Marcus, who was staring at Baird blankly. Sighing and shaking his head as his shoulders visibly slumped, Baird walked over to the main computer desk. He began to tap quickly at the keyboard, frowning slightly and shaking his head

"The system's in lockdown. It's gonna' take me a few minutes to get it back up and running," Baird murmured, looking over the displays on the monitors.

Marcus made a low growl and looked over at the elevator. So far it was staying put, and as he began to look around the computer room, Marcus grimly realized that the only way out was the way they had came in. And when they went down that elevator...

Shaking his head and beginning to slowly pace back and forth across the room, Marcus glanced over at Baird, who was still muttering to himself and typing quickly at the keyboard. Occasionally, the blond would run his hand over his hair, but he would return to typing at the keyboard promptly.

As grim realization began to firmly set in and take hold, Marcus paused for a few moments, watching Baird. The blond was off in his own little world at this point, utterly focused on the task at hand, and didn't seem to completely realize the sort of situation that he and Marcus were in.

That was fine by Marcus. His mind had already been made up, and he didn't need Baird distracted at the moment.

"Marcus, hey, come take a look at this," Baird said.

Walking over to the computer, Marcus peered down at the monitor that Baird was pointing at. He could see a few schematics of what looked to be a very intricate and very deadly weapons system, but that was all that he really understood. Baird, however, seemed far more interested in footnotes at the end of the notes.

"What am I looking at?" Marcus inquired.

"A new Connect-The-Dots drawing," Baird snapped sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "What do you think, Marcus? It's the goddamn weapons system. A good one at that. Darrows actually sent us out after something worthwhile this time. But look at this..."

Baird highlighted a footnote, and on it, Marcus read the name 'Dr. Eleanor Boaz.' Frowning, Marcus looked over at Baird.

"Doctor Boaz?" Marcus muttered. "What the hell is her name doing there? She was a psychologist, not a scientist."

"Yeah, I mean, it's no secret that Darrows is after Doc Boaz's research, but I thought she just had wrote little snippets of her own, personal experiences with the goddamn grubs," Baird commented. "I never heard about her doing any sort of help with a weapons system..."

"Colonel Darrows better not to have fucking sent us out here just because some scientist decided to add Doc Boaz's name on a footnote."

"The bastard's done crazier things," Baird grumbled, looking up at Marcus. He noted the very dark expression on Marcus's face and frowned slightly. He was used to seeing Marcus focused, especially when it came to completing a mission, but there was something more about his expression. Something far more detached and...defeated. And that something bothered Baird on a level he wasn't entirely comfortable admitting to.

"Hey, Marcus," he murmured. "What the hell is wrong with you...? You're actin' like we're already dead."

Looking over at Baird, Marcus studied the blond for a few moments. He tried to keep his expression as deadpan as possible, so as to not give away the decision he had already come to. But Baird wouldn't be so easily deterred, and he leaned a little closer, gently grasping Marcus's chin.

"Marcus...," Baird whispered. "...c'mon, man...talk to me."

"I'm fine, Baird," Marcus finally answered, grasping Baird's hand lightly and pulling it from his face slowly. "Just tryin' to figure a couple things out."

"Yeah, well...try not to look so grim about it," Baird muttered. He leaned up and kissed Marcus gently. He knew that Marcus wouldn't approve of the gesture since they were on a mission, but Baird was trying to figure some way out to break through the wall that Marcus had put up.

So when Marcus pulled Baird closer, deepening the kiss, every internal red flag that Baird had went up. Something was very, very wrong.

"Okay, Marcus," Baird murmured. "...now you're really startin' to freak me out, man. Talk to me."

"It's nothing, Baird," Marcus answered. He needed to avert Baird's attention, so Marcus turned his gaze back to the computers. "Can you pull the information?"

Grinning smugly, Baird turned his attention back to the computer and motioned to a small chip that he had inserted into the main drive of the computer system.

"Already on it," the blond answered proudly. "Should be done shortly. Once it's done I just have to wipe the data out of the system so the grubs can't get their greedy little paws on it. ...that is, if they haven't already."

As if on cue, the computer chimed loudly to alert that the data transfer and completed. Turning his full attention back to the computer, Baird pulled the chip from the system and then safely stored it in one of the pouches on his belt. He then began working away on removing all the information from the computer system.

Marcus took advantage of the opportunity of Baird's momentarily averted attention.

"Report back to Colonel Darrows on what we found," Marcus ordered quietly.

"Yeah, but we're not getting out of here without something to distract those fuglies downstairs," Baird snapped back. "They brought the whole Locust country club. Maybe we were wrong, Sarge. Maybe they are actually museum lovers and this is their goddamn tour group. We try and go down there, we're gonna' get ripped to pieces."

"I know." Standing up, Marcus began to walk away from the computer desk slowly.

Still tapping away quickly at the keyboard, Baird paused when he heard motors starting to power on. The sound of a gunshot made Baird whirl around, and he saw Marcus standing in the elevator, looking solemnly at the now destroyed control panel.

"Marcus?" Baird asked. As the pieces started to click together, Baird began to realize why Marcus had been so detached...and what he was planning to do. "Marcus!"

Shoving the chair aside quickly, Baird rushed to the doors, but they had already shut and the platform had begun to descend. Instinctively hitting his palm against the outside control panel for the elevator, Baird felt the cold claws of panic seize him when the control panel made no response. Slamming the butt of his Lancer against the glass with as much force as he could muster, Baird winced sharply as he felt the impact reverberate through his injured arm.

"Marcus, what the fuck're you doing?" Baird demanded, horrified panic starting to seep into his voice. He already had a sinking suspicion of what Marcus intended to do, and it made his blood go cold.

Looking over his shoulder slightly, Marcus looked over at Baird...and smiled faintly. Baird's heart sank and he hit his fist against the glass furiously.

"Goddammit, you idiot!" Baird yelled, slamming the butt of the Lancer on the glass once more even though it was a futile effort. "Don't you dare go play fuckin' hero on me now!"

But it was far too late.

The platform had descended far enough that Baird doubted Marcus could hear him now. The dull roar of the motors drown out Baird's yelling, and he quickly stepped back from the doors, looking them over. They were made of reinforced, shatterproof glass, and there was no way that Baird could either bash or shoot his way through them.

His mind was now racing, desperately trying to think of anything he could use to pry the doors open. He could jump down the elevator shaft, or at least climb down, that part wouldn't be hard. But he had to stop Marcus before the bastard got himself butchered by the waiting horde of Locust.

"You fuckin'...idiot!" Baird snarled, glancing around the room.

The only thing he found that would fit between the doors was a letter opener on the computer desk.

A frustrated, forced laugh escaped Baird and he ran his hands over his hair in quickly escalating desperation.

"Think, Baird, think," he hissed to himself.

The almost deafening sound of the platform hitting the ground floor caused Baird to stop in mid-step. Marcus had reached the ground floor.

"No, no, no," Baird muttered, running over to the computer system and looking at the monitors for the security system.

The Locust had temporarily left the room, but they had to be close. There was no way they'd have given up the chase that fast. He could see Marcus already setting up a makeshift barricade as carefully as he could. Of course, he wouldn't want to alert the Locust to his location until he was at least prepared as best he could be. But even so, the sheer number of Locust would make short work of the barricade and then-

The security system.

Stopping, Baird looked over the computers quickly, trying to find the monitor that managed the controls for security system's weapon setup. If he could buy Marcus some time, he could get the doors to the elevator either working or at least open. The weapon system may even prove enough to drive the Locust back.

Yeah, and while Baird was dreaming, he'd like a full wrench set with his initials engraved on them...

Finally finding the monitor, Baird clicked it on and began cycling through the commands, trying to find the one to override the system lockout. As he went through the seemingly endless lines of code, he finally found the one he was looking for-

-and then the whole building shuddered and the lights clacked off before flickering back on.

But when the monitors beeped back on, Baird made another frustrated cry and slammed his fists on the desk. The computers were back into lockdown mode. It had taken Baird at least ten minutes to work through the lockdown before. But he didn't have ten minutes.

_Marcus_ didn't have ten minutes.

His mind now in overdrive, Baird looked down at the main console and quickly pried the front panel off. Throwing it aside, Baird quickly slid his goggles over his eyes and lay down on his back, sliding under the console. If he could bypass the main security grid, then he could get the weapon system back up and running with a couple of mouse clicks. Granted, the security system would be shot to hell and the weapon system would be overclocked to the point of possibly burning out, but Baird highly doubted that the previous owner of the system would care.

And if he did, well...Baird had a couple of choice words for him.

Ripping the security grid free from its spot on the inside wall of the console, Baird then began to pull the wires free from it. He then reached to the small utility kit that he had and produced a small, portable soldering tool. As he put the first two wires together and pressed the soldering tool against them, Baird scrunched up his nose slightly at the stench of burning metal.

"Come on, come on," he grumbled through gritted teeth. Bits of molten metal fell down and tinged against Baird's goggles, but he paid it no mind.

The first two wires successfully soldered, Baird paused for only a second to see if he could at least hear the computers starting to power back on. A small wave of relief washed over him as he heard the low hum of power being fed to the console. Turning back to the third and final wire, Baird started to solder them back together.

The entire building seemed to heave and there was a deafening sound of a wall being blasted to bits. The sudden jerk knocked the soldering tool from Baird's hands and he heard it clatter to the exhaust grates that were at least three feet below the console.

"Shit!" he snarled. "Goddamn Locust and their motherfu-"

An unmistakable roar cut Baird short.

Berserker.

They had a goddamn Berserker.

A new sense of dread and desperation hit Baird and he began twisting the wires together as tightly as he could manage. They had soldered together somewhat, but now he was simply praying to whoever could hear him at this point that the connection would be made at this point.

"Come on, start you bitch," Baird pleaded angrily. "Start!"

Miraculously, the computers beeped back in response as they began to boot up. Baird allowed himself to make a quick cheer, but in his haste, he sat up quickly...and promptly hit his head against the inside of the console. Snarling and clutching at his forehead, Baird scooted out from underneath the console. He quickly stood up and looked over the computers. They were booting up, but nowhere near as fast as Baird would like.

...and then he heard Marcus's yell promptly followed by Lancer gunfire.

()

Ducking as bullets pinged against the rubble of the wall, Marcus glanced around quickly. The Berserker had crashed through the wall, but had been in such a frenetic fury that she'd charged two hapless Drones. While the one had been immediately ripped apart, the other had managed to start running from the bellowing monstrosity. ...and it had bought Marcus just enough time to get to cover.

The Locust had swarmed the Defense Display room, and it had only been by sheer luck and a miracle that Marcus had managed to escape the room to the left exit without being mowed down. He had raced out into what looked like a main hall, or rather, the remnants of a main hall, and to the far left corner, he could see an entrance the hallway that he and Baird had used to enter the building.

Finding cover behind a wall of broken timbers, marble, and what had once been a very large display of...something, Marcus rapidly reloaded his Lancer and tried to make out where the Drones were based on sound. He was hoping that he'd managed to draw most of the Locust out to the main hall with him, which would leave Baird facing minimal resistance once he left the computer room.

But now the Drones had him pinned down, and it was only a matter of time before that Berserker came back. And then it was just a matter of either being ripped limb from limb by the Berserker or mowed down by gunfire.

Marcus had to admit, he'd had better ideas in the past.

"Baird, you better be running," Marcus grumbled. But even as he growled the words through gritted teeth, Marcus couldn't help but smile faintly.

Yeah, he could buy Baird enough time.

The air reverberated with the bellow of the Berserker and Marcus realized that she'd either ripped the other Drone to ribbons or had given up the chase. She'd be after him within a matter of minutes...

Firing a short, concentrated burst of gunfire at the closest Drone, Marcus picked up one of the grenades he'd managed to stockpile in the process of creating his small barricade. Tossing it blindly, Marcus grinned grimly when he heard the agonized roar of a Drone. His small victory was immediately dashed, however, when the ground began to rumble.

The Berserker was on her way.

Glancing over the barricade quickly, Marcus only managed a short snarl of surprise before having to throw himself out of the way. The Berserker ripped through the barricade like it was tissue paper, flailing her claws madly. As he struck the ground and darted to cover behind a pillar to avoid being riddled with bullets, Marcus glanced up at the behemoth. Even for a Berserker, she was huge. Her armor seemed to be in excess, and her mottled skin almost seemed to be warped and twisted into a second set of armor. To top it all off, she appeared to be at least a foot, if not more, taller than most of the other Berserkers Marcus had encountered. The goddamn thing was a behemoth.

"...shit," he hissed.

Pivoting quickly, the Berserker seemed to hone in on Marcus. He had no idea how she'd managed to hear him over all the commotion that the rest of the Locust were causing. But she had...and she charged.

Throwing himself out of the way again and into the hallway, Marcus felt the Berserker grab his right ankle, the armor crushing slightly under her grip. She then proceeded to slam Marcus against a nearby wall. The white and cream spiral marble cracked under the sudden impact, and Marcus felt his entire body scream out in protest. It felt like she had just managed to shatter every bone in his body and he collapsed to the ground weakly. Catching himself, he realized that his armor had managed to soak up most of the impact, but he couldn't breath.

Gasping and reaching for his Lancer, which had been knocked from his grip, Marcus looked up at the Berserker, waiting for her to bear down on him and rip him apart.

But she didn't.

She just stood there, growling furiously, spittle dripping from her jaws.

Christ...she was _toying_ with him.

In all his years, Marcus had never seen a Berserker toy with her victim.

It didn't matter by this point. If she wanted to play, then so be it. It would keep her and the rest of the Locust focused on Marcus a little longer.

...and give Baird more time to escape.

When he grabbed his Lancer, the Berserker jerked her head at the metallic clacking noise. She roared and kicked Marcus in the gut, sending him rolling across the floor roughly. Coughing and spitting out a mouthful of blood, Marcus winced and clutched at his side. He pulled his hand away to see his palm was covered with blood. Not good. Struggling to a kneeling position, Marcus took aim at the Berserker.

"Come on, you bitch," he whispered hoarsely.

The Berserker tore towards him again, and Marcus tried to roll out of the way, but his right ankle gave way underneath him, and he collapsed to the floor, only managing to partially get out of the way of the charging beast. She had hunkered down and her lower arm hammered into Marcus's chest, sending him sprawling again.

Marcus made a hoarse, choked groan, rolling onto his side. So far he had been lucky enough that the Berserker had been basically kicking him down the main hallway that he and Baird had used to enter the building. While it meant she had more than enough wall space to beat him against, she also had inadvertently kept him shielded from Locust gunfire.

The Locust may have been hell bent on killing every human on Sera, but they weren't so stupid as to open fire on a Beserker in order to do so. Especially not one this goddamn huge.

The Berserker suddenly stopped again, and she took a step back. A low, guttural, almost purring sound followed and Marcus looked up. His vision was blurred and he was coughing up blood still, but he managed to get back into a kneeling position. He reached for his Lancer, which was lying a few feet away...

...and had his hand crushed under the boot of a very familiar looking Kantus.

"...no...fucking way," Marcus breathed, looking up.

It was the same Kantus that had attacked them at the farmhouse.

The same Kantus that had murdered Doctor Boaz.

The Kantus glowered down at Marcus, then made a short, sharp bark at the Berserker. The Berserker jerked her head in the Kantus's direction, then took a lumbering step back. The Kantus turned his attention back to Marcus, gripping Marcus's throat tightly. He slowly produced a jagged, serrated edge blade, then hoisted Marcus up. The Kantus tilted his head to one side, making a gloating snarl, and began to drag the blade across the scar on Marcus's face.

Snarling, Marcus managed to spat a mix of blood and spit on the Kantus's face, and that was enough. The Kantus reared back, and Marcus put every last ounce of strength into fighting against the Kantus's grip. He managed to free himself enough to stagger back...just as the blade plunged into him.

Baird had managed to avoid most of the Locust by cutting through the Defense Display room and going around. He remembered enough of the layout that he could go around and reach the Main Hall, where he had last seen Marcus running to. Baird just hoped against hope that he would make it in time.

As he rounded the corner, Baird felt his heart stop and his blood freeze over. That same, goddamn Kantus had Marcus by the throat, pinned to the ground...and had plunged what looked to be a small sword into Marcus's chest.

"MARCUS!" Baird called out, his voice a mix of horror, panic, and raw fury.

Focusing his aim on the Kantus, Baird drew up his Lancer and opened fire. While he was aware of the Berserker, he was hardly concerned about her. All he had to do at this point was get that goddamn Kantus the hell away from Marcus. Baird could lure the Berserker away just by causing a racket...

The bullets pinged off the Kantus's armor loudly, but a few actually managed to smack into the beast's face, causing him to stagger back and scowl murderously at Baird.

"How does it feel, you goddamn, motherfuckin' bastard?" Baird shouted challengingly. Hell, by this point, he _wanted_ the Kantus to charge him. _Wanted _the opportunity to put his chainsaw bayonet straight down and through the goddamn thing's head.

Rolling over slightly, wincing at the feel of the blade jammed into his shoulder, Marcus looked down the hallway weakly to see Baird walking towards the Kantus, the barrel of his Lancer already glowing red-hot. Realizing that the Berserker was still there, Marcus looked over at her, but she was actually...waiting. ...what the hell was with this thing?

"...Baird...goddammit," Marcus coughed. "...run, you asshole."

Either Baird ignored him or didn't hear him, because the blond Gear continued firing at the Kantus until there was the resounding sound of a 'click' as the Lancer ran empty. Seizing the opportunity, the Kantus roared at the Berserker...and she suddenly sprung back to life.

The sight of the giant, hulking monolith of teeth, claws, armor, and rage barreling towards him was just enough to pull Baird out of his fury, and he dove out of the way as the Berserker charged by. Turning to quickly face the Kantus, Baird felt the first gunshot strike him square in the chest. Fortunately, his armor deflected the bullet, but the second bullet tore across his already injured arm.

Realizing that the Kantus was now opening fire on Baird, Marcus gripped the handle of the knife that was buried in his shoulder tightly. Gritting his teeth and bracing for the inevitable agony, he wrenched the blade free with a short, choked gasp of pain...and promptly drove it through the Kantus's right leg.

"...you forgot...something you...fucker," Marcus rasped as the Kantus staggered away, shrieking.

Turning, the Kantus aimed his pistol at Marcus, and the Sergeant let his head rest on the marble floor, half expecting the bullet to finish him. But Baird charged the Kantus and tackled him to the ground with a furious yell. Practically sitting on the Kantus's chest, Baird began angrily punching the beast in the face with every ounce of strength he could muster. Partly because he had started to realize that the Kantus was, somehow, giving orders to the Berserker and that if he could keep the Kantus quiet, then he wouldn't have to worry about the Berserker turning him into a red paste.

But mostly because the Kantus had tried to take from Baird one of the few people that he held dear. The goddamn..._thing_ had tried to take one of the few people in Baird's life worth fighting for.

So he would fight for it.

Fight for it with every fiber of his being.

Every bit of anger and hatred he'd ever harbored towards the Locust, to the world that seemed content on constantly trying to wear him down, thundered through Baird's veins as he brought his fists down on the Kantus's face. The monster's razor maw of teeth cut through his gloves and bloodied his knuckles before shearing through the top of his hands, but Baird never even noticed. By this point he couldn't even muster up the words to curse at the goddamn thing. All he wanted to do was kill it.

But the Kantus managed to garble out a panicked shriek, and while Baird found some grim satisfaction in that he was able to scare the shit out of the bastard, he also realized that the Berserker was soon to be on her way.

Jumping to his feet, Baird rushed over to Marcus, who had started to try and crawl out of the way. His chest tightened at the blood trail that Marcus was leaving, and Baird began to wonder if he was too late.

Goddammit...he had to get them both out of here. _Now_.

"Get up, Marcus, get up!" Baird said quickly, glancing over his shoulder as the Kantus slowly began to come to. "C'mon! Up and at 'em!"

Throwing Marcus's arm over his shoulders, Baird had to practically drag the Sergeant to his feet, but he managed to get Marcus standing, and he then began to drag Marcus towards a nearby bedroom turned display room.

"There should be...an emergency exit...through...here!" Baird gasped. Marcus was almost dead weight at this point, and Baird found himself fearing that he was doing more damage to Marcus than good.

"...I..told...told you...to run," Marcus wheezed.

"Yeah...fuck you, too!" Baird retorted angrily. "Tryin' to leave my blond ass behind and everything...!"

"...tryin'...to save...your...your blond-"

"Stop talkin'!" Baird cried, starting to panic as Marcus's voice became strained. "Finally, I get to...to tell you...can it, Marcus!"

Even as injured as he was, Marcus managed a low growl of exasperation with Baird's retort. Ignoring it for the moment, Baird dragged Marcus to the emergency exit. Kicking the door open, Baird glanced over his shoulder. He could hear the Kantus shrieking angrily, but Baird could only hope that he had managed to temporarily blind the bastard when he'd tried to punch his face in.

The weapons system had needed a boot up period, but Baird hadn't been willing to wait around for it to boot up. He'd let the system go onto autorun and then sought out Marcus.

He bitterly wished he hadn't taken the long way around...

The Berserker's furious roar soon followed, and Baird quickly shut the emergency exit door behind them and began helping Marcus down the stairs.

"C'mon, Marcus!" Baird urged, feeling the ground beneath their feet start to rumble. "Move, move!"

He hated trying to force Marcus along like this with the current state that the Sergeant was in, but Baird knew they had no choice. If it was just the Kantus they were having to face, Baird would have let Marcus rest while he continued to beat the damn thing's head to a pulp. But now they had to worry about the Berserker, and the most damage Baird could do was to the bitch's ego if he came up with a really sharp retort about her weight and facial structure.

Fortunately, the weapons system suddenly clicked on, and automated turrets that had been dormant and lying behind panels on the wall suddenly whirred to life, and soon the Locust found themselves having to deal with a constant, relentless barrage of automated fire. It also bought Baird and Marcus more time...

As they reached the foot of the staircase, their boots splashed against about the two inches of standing water that had already seeped into the service tunnel. Again Baird found himself practically dragging Marcus along, but he didn't care. He just had to get Marcus to an evac point. Marcus coughed hoarsely, and Baird felt panic seize him again as the Sergeant spat out a mouthful of blood.

"Goddammit, Marcus," Baird whispered, grunting as he hoisted Marcus up a little to keep the Sergeant from collapsing to his knees. "Stay with me...! Just stay with me a little longer!"

"...Baird-"

"Shut up and save your breath," Baird ordered angrily. He didn't know how to deal with this kind of panic. The threat of losing Marcus seemed more and more real with each passing moment, and it only heightened his frenetic state of mind. It wasn't something that Baird was familiar with. He was used to frantic situations, but not being able to keep his thoughts straight so he could formulate a plan of action was something new for Baird.

And he hated it.

As they staggered down the service tunnel, Baird spotted a ladder leading up to a second level. A second level that undoubtedly had another way leading out of this godforsaken place.

Baird swore that if he never saw another museum again, it would be all too soon.

Nearing the ladder, Baird glanced over at Marcus. There was no way he could drag the Sergeant up the ladder in the state that Marcus was in.

"Shit...!" Baird hissed, looking around the service tunnel quickly. He needed some way to help Marcus up to the platform.

"...Baird," Marcus rasped. "..._go_...!"

"Goddammit, Marcus!" Baird shouted. "I'm not going-"

The jarring noise of concrete crumbling and the sound of metal bars snapping interrupted Baird. Glancing over his shoulder, the blond felt a cold stab in his chest. The wall at the end of the service way tunnel shuddered one more time, the noise of concrete and metal breaking echoing down the tunnel. The very wall that was cracked and already buckling with water leaking out of it.

"Marcus," Baird whispered quickly, grabbing Marcus's hand and forcing it to close around one of the rungs of the ladder.

"Baird...what the...hell're...you-" Marcus gasped. The pain was a constant companion at this point, and there was variation in it. It was as though the pain had seeped through every part of his body and simply taken a death hold on him. He was also vaguely aware that his vision was slowly being clouded over by a dark haze...

"Marcus...hold your breath. And don't let go of this goddamn ladder. Whatever you do...don't let go of the goddamn-"

Baird was once again interrupted by the wall, only this time it was when the entire wall buckled and gave way, a sudden tidal wave of water rushing them. Even in his injured, near unconscious state, Marcus realized what had happened, and he gripped the ladder rung as tightly as he could.

For a few split seconds, it seemed like the tidal wave of concrete, piping, and metal slowed to a crawl...and then promptly picked up a murderous charge towards the two Gears. While gripping a rung of the ladder as tightly as possible with his right hand, Baird practically hugged Marcus to him, trying to shield him as best as possible from the rampaging waters. Within an instant, it felt like a solid wall of concrete had slammed into Baird's back, his armor creaking under the impact. Though he may have mitigated some of the damage that the sudden slam of water, when he staggered and fell against Marcus, the Sergeant's grip on the ladder rung failed.

Panicking, Baird reached out and snagged the gauntlet piece of Marcus's armor, the rushing waters actually aiding him in keeping Marcus from being yanked away. His shoulder jerked painfully, and Baird gritted his teeth to keep from losing precious air. He could still hear the dull, thudding noise of the bullets from the weapons system as they worked to mow down the Locust invaders and the loud, hammering noise of his pulse in his ears.

As the waters struck the wall at the end of the service tunnel, they sloshed backwards viciously, throwing Marcus against Baird. With a choked grunt, Baird barely kept his grip on the ladder rung, his index finger slipping from the metal bar. Clutching Marcus to him, Baird set his boots on the floor of the service tunnel, desperate to find any sort of traction to keep him and the Sergeant from sliding away from the ladder.

The second reverberation of the waters struck them, but by this point, it had lost a lot of momentum, and Baird was able to slowly turn Marcus to him so he could try and help him up the ladder. They didn't have a choice now. They had to get up the ladder or they would drown. When he was facing Marcus, Baird felt his chest seize when he saw that Marcus's eyes were loosely closed, a few bubbles of air escaping his lips.

_Shit...no, no, no!_

Gripping Marcus's jaw, Baird pressed his lips against Marcus's fiercely, breathing as much air as he could dare into Marcus's mouth and lungs. Pulling back, Baird watched to see if Marcus would come to, dread slowly coiling around his heart. Small clouds of blood were already rising from Marcus's injuries...and were soon followed by bubbles of air from Marcus's mouth. The very air that Baird had desperately tried to force into Marcus's lungs.

His yell of frustration and alarm muffled by the icy, debris-filled waters, Baird yanked free the small combat knife on his belt and began frantically cutting through the clasps and bindings on the chestplate armor that Marcus was wearing. Sawing the blade through the bindings, Baird forced back a cough as he felt his lungs start to burn for air. He could only imagine what Marcus was feeling at this point.

...if Marcus could feel at all.

_No, no, no! Not gonna' fuckin' think like that! Keep focused, you fucking jackass!_

The blade slipped and sliced across Baird's hand, but he ignored the pain and finished cutting through the clasp. The chestplate slid to the floor of the flooded service tunnel with an echoed thud. Coughing and involuntarily sucking in a mouthful of water, Baird realized he was out of time and twisted the collar of Marcus's shirt in his hand. He didn't have the time or air to cut Marcus free of any more amor.

Setting his boots on the rungs of the ladder, Baird began forcing his way up the ladder. Red and white spots flashed in his vision and it felt like he was tearing every muscle in his arm as he hauled Marcus up the ladder. But he could see the trembling surface of the waters. It was just a tantalizing mere inches away. Just a few more inches and Baird could get lungfuls of sweet, sweet air.

Growling and mustering up a burst of strength, Baird lunged upward, finally breaking through the surface of the waters. Inhaling hoarsely and sharply, the blond coughed and gagged as he pulled Marcus up so that the Sergeant's head was at least above the water. Looking over at Marcus, Baird shook the dark-haired Gear slightly.

"Marcus!" he yelled. "Marcus! Goddammit, man, wake up!"

Marcus's head lolled forward weakly, a dribble of blood and water sliding from his mouth.

"Shit...!" Baird hissed, scrambling up the ladder.

While he managed to climb onto the second level, when Baird tried to haul Marcus up out of the waters, he almost slid back into the water.

"Whoa...!" Baird yelped, quickly putting his hands under Marcus's arms. "Fuck, fuck! C'mon, you bastard!"

Finally, with a snarl of effort and something that probably registered along the lines of a miracle, Baird pulled Marcus free from the cold waters. He lay Marcus down on his back, and Baird quickly felt for a pulse.

...there wasn't one.

"No...!" Baird yelled, quickly squaring Marcus's head. "Marcus! Don't you dare fuckin' do this to me, man! Don't you _fuckin' dare!_"

Quickly shoving his index and middle fingers into Marcus's mouth to ensure there was no debris possibly clogging Marcus's airway, Baird started chest compressions before almost crushing his lips against Marcus's, forcing mouthfuls of air into Marcus's lungs.

"Marcus...!" Baird called, restarting the chest compressions. "Goddammit, man! You better not fuckin'-you-goddammit!"

Pressing his fingers against Marcus's throat, Baird searched for a pulse...and for a few split seconds, he felt the smallest traces of one. ...before it faded just as quickly.

"Gah! C'mon, you stubborn bastard! You can't quit on me now!" Baird snarled, once again forcing air into Marcus's lungs.

But now the act seemed to be growing more and more futile with every passing second, and Baird could feel his own lungs aching from the effort. His thoughts an absolute wreck at this point, Baird tried another set of chest compression, but when he couldn't find a pulse, a choked, suppressed sob interrupted his attempts to force air into Marcus's lungs.

"...shit...fuck...goddammit, Marcus...you can't fucking...goddammit_..._" Gritting his teeth and feeling an unfamiliar burn at his eyes, Baird raised a fist and angrily slammed it on Marcus's chest. "_Marcus!_"

As if on cue, Marcus coughed and sputtered hoarsely. Snapping to attention, Baird quickly rolled the Sergeant onto his uninjured side as Marcus gasped for air, clutching at the concrete floor weakly.

"That's it, Marcus! C'mon, goddammit, breathe!"

Gasping in a choked wheeze, Marcus coughed fiercely, a spatter of blood and water escaping his mouth. Baird held him as steady as he could, but cast a wary glance over his shoulder. So far it sounded like the Locust were still preoccupied, but there was no telling how long that would be.

"...Baird...?" Marcus finally gasped out, weakly setting a hand on the cold concrete. He was vaguely aware that Baird had hauled him out of the waters...somehow.

"...yeah, yeah, man...I'm here," Baird answered quietly, crawling over to Marcus's side. Finally allowing himself to cough, Baird winced and sighed heavily.

Rolling over onto his back, Marcus looked over at Baird, his pale blue eyes half-lidded. He suddenly scowled at Baird and coughed again, spatting out a mouthful of blood and water. Fortunately, this time, it was more water and spittle than blood.

"I told...you...to fucking run...you blond...jackass," the Sergeant wheezed.

First a look of disbelief flashed across his face before Baird reached over and grasped Marcus's face before kissing him quickly, too fearful of depriving Marcus of air. But he kept his face close to Marcus's, his lips brushing against Marcus's as he spoke.

"...fuckin' hell, man...no way I'm followin' that goddamn order."

Sighing and closing his eyes slowly, Marcus relaxed as best he could, trying to ignore the waves of pain that tore across his body in now regular intervals. After a few minutes, he weakly reached up and set his hand on the side of Baird's face, the rough feeling of Baird's five o'clock shadow grazing against his palm. Granting himself a brief moment of rare compassion, Baird pressed his face lightly against Marcus's palm before turning his focus back to the Sergeant.

"...what the fuck were you thinkin', you asshole?" Baird whispered. "Runnin' off and leaving my blond ass like that."

"...you're the...the only one that-" Marcus coughed harshly and Baird leaned back, giving the dark-haired Gear some room. When his coughs subsided, though, Marcus pulled Baird back to him, kissing him before continuing. "...the only one that would actually know...how to explain that...jibberish to Darrows."

"Oh yeah?" Baird challenged quietly. "And how the fuck was I supposed to explain that we were short the legendary Marcus Fenix?"

"...you're the goddamn blond genius...dipshit. ...figured you'd think...of something..," Marcus answered.

Baird stared at Marcus in confusion and disbelief...that is, until Marcus grinned faintly and succeeded in chuckling for a few seconds before coughing again. A short, almost forced laugh escaped Baird and he leaned back again to give Marcus room while shaking his head.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Even I dunno' if I'm that...goddamn good..."

"...the fuck? I give you a chance...to stroke that irritatin' as hell ego of yours...and you've got nothin'?" Marcus wheezed, raising an eyebrow. "...that Berserker hit you...on the head?"

Baird studied Marcus for a few minutes before leaning over suddenly and kissing the Sergeant deeply. Making a muffled grunt of surprise, Marcus relaxed, gripping the back of Baird's head. Something splashed down on his face, and Marcus paused, opening his eyes and tilting his head to the side slightly. Though he instantly regretted the decision as warning jolts of pain shot down his neck, the Sergeant still managed to hold Baird steady enough to study the Corporal's expression.

The blond's eyes were still closed, though, and Marcus froze when he saw the traces of tears on Baird's face.

"...Baird?"

"Fuckin' water, man," Baird growled, shaking his head and snorting slightly. "Got enough goddamn shit in it to make anybody's eyes burn..."

Marcus was silent, but pulled Baird close and let the Corporal lightly rest his forehead against Marcus's. Inhaling sharply, Baird carefully wiped some of the remaining water rivulets from Marcus's face.

"...don't ever do that to me again," he whispered, his voice trembling faintly. "I...goddammit, Marcus, I-"

The lights in the service tunnel suddenly dimmed with the unmistakable sound of power draining from the facility, and Baird sat up quickly, looking around as his senses came back onto high alert.

"Fuck," he hissed. "Weapons system must've finally burned out. Had the piece of shit tin can system overclocked to give those grubs somethin' to think about for a while, but I figured we had more time than this."

"...then let's get the hell outta' here," Marcus rumbled lowly, rolling onto his side with a wince.

"Whoa, whoa..!" Baird stopped. "Fuckin' hell...you don't quit, do you?"

"Can it, Baird," Marcus growled, struggling to his feet.

Making a low grumble of frustration and rolling his eyes, Baird helped Marcus to his feet and then slung the Sergeant's arm over his shoulders.

"We should have some time," Baird explained breathlessly, helping Marcus limp along. "Dumbass grubs're probably still reelin' from getting their asses shot at from every goddamn direction."

"...what about...what about...fuck...the Berserker?" Marcus gasped, glancing over at Baird.

"That bitch is one of a kind, man," Baird answered, shaking his head. "One, she's bigger than any fuckin' Berserker I've ever seen. Two...the goddamn bitch _takes orders._ I have _never_ seen that. Those things are usually a rampaging shitstorm that kills everything in their path."

"Yeah...I know."

"I know you know," Baird answered, eyeing the emergency exit that they were nearing. The emergency lighting had kicked in enough that he could at least see enough to keep them from falling back in the water. Though he wouldn't admit it, Baird could feel the muscles in his body starting to weaken and beg for reprieve.

It'd have to wait. They still needed to make contact for an evac.

"What I'm sayin' is," Baird continued, "if that fuckin' Kantus is able to give her orders, we've got a whole new threat on our hands. Our main advantage over those blind bitches was the fact that they were, well...blind. If there's a Kantus that can see and give the bitch orders, we've got a whole new problem. Even if it is one Berserker. ...doesn't help it looks like this Berserker has been eatin' her goddamn veggies and hittin' the gym every day."

"...shit," Marcus grumbled, realizing the gravity of the situation. It was like giving a Berserker a set of eyes...

"The only thing I noticed," Baird proceeded, looking around the emergency exit door quickly, "is that if the Kantus ain't givin' her orders, she's practically brain dead. Just stands there droolin' on herself and lookin' dumber than a bag of dogshit."

"Think it's...that one Kantus? ...or can any...Kantus...do it?"

"Here's hoping it's just that one Kantus," Baird answered, shoving the door open with a sound kick. As expected, the alarm didn't sound. It had long since been burned out after probably ringing for hours with nobody to come to answer the alarm.

"...yeah?"

"Yeah," Baird answered with a smug grin, remembering the feel of the Kantus's teeth breaking under his knuckles. "Pretty sure the loud ass bastard is gonna' need a dentist before he starts singin' that irritating song of his."

"...you...you did a number on him," Marcus replied, matching Baird's grin after a hoarse cough.

"Should've fuckin' killed the bastard," Baird growled, helping Marcus limp along. "Sadistic little motherfucker needed his skull punched into goo."

The two found themselves in what appeared to be a bedroom that had been midway through renovation. The bed was still in the center of the room, though it was surrounded by boxes and other, assorted displays and dioramas from past themes.

"Here," Baird said, setting Marcus down on the bed. The mattress creaked but was a welcome relief. "Take a break for a bit. Gotta' see if I can get in touch with the Raven or Control or a goddamn carrier pigeon."

Nodding in reply, Marcus lay back on the bed, sighing heavily. His shoulder that had been stabbed was throbbing rhythmically in agony, and it had rendered his right arm practically useless. His ribs ached sharply with every ragged breath, and his right ankle felt broken or at the least, sprained. To top it all off, Marcus had water in his ears. ...he really hated it when he got water in his ears.

"This is Delta One," Baird stated as loudly as he dared, his fingers almost crushing the tac comm in his ear. "Can anybody hear this...? I repeat, this is Delta One and we need immediate evac!"

His breath pausing momentarily in his chest, Baird grinned in relief when he heard the low static from the tac comm broke.

"We hear you, you blond bastard. Where the hell are you two?" It was Clay.

"We're...fuck if I know," Baird answered. "But Sergeant Fenix is injured. Badly. We need immediate evac. Shit...we needed an evac about ten minutes ago."

"The whole zone is hotter than the underside of Hell," Clay replied. "We need to pinpoint a location to avoid getting shot out of the air like a one-winged duck! Give us a location and we'll get to you."

"...fuckin' hell, man," Baird hissed in frustration. "There's Locust all over the place! The only location we'll be goin' is six feet under if we don't get out of here!"

"...Baird," Marcus muttered, stopping the blond from continuing on his rant.

"Alright, alright," Baird said, holding up a hand in defeat. "Fine...we'll get you a goddamn position."

"Thank you, princess," Clay muttered.

"Fuck you, too," Baird snapped. He then paused and a look of dawning realization grew on his expression. "Shit...! Put rookie on! Rookie! Harris! Private Harris!"

"Ye-yes, sir?" Harris asked, his voice crackling in over the tac comm.

"Need you to guide me through tryin' to patch Marcus up as best I can. He's got a serious stab wound to his shoulder, possible broken ribs, a fucked up ankle, and-"

"...water in my ears," Marcus grumbled, wincing slightly.

"What?" Baird asked in disbelief, glancing over at the Sergeant.

"There's water in my ears, dipshit."

"Uh...is he saying there's water in his ears?" Harris asked.

"Yeah," Baird answered, sounding somewhere between angry and confused. "Pressing matter, you know. Life threatening, even."

"Okay, we'll...we'll, uh, work on that..," Harris stammered slightly. "The first thing we need to take care of is the stab wound. How deep is it?"

Walking over to Marcus quickly, Baird inspected the injury, frowning.

"It's on his shoulder and it's pretty deep, man," Baird replied. "Armor seemed to have kept the blade from goin' straight through, though. Don't think it hit anything vital."

"Okay, that's good," Harris said, his tone going steady. "Then the main thing is going to first staunch the bleeding. Do you have any sort of gauze or fabric?"

Looking around, Baird saw a stack of folded bed sheets at the food of the bed.

"I'm about to," he answered, snatching up one of the sheets. "Got a bedsheet. Will that work?"

"Yeah, it'll do," Harris replied. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Tear or cut it in half lengthways."

"Gimme' two seconds," Baird stated.

Unsheathing his combat knife, Baird tore the sheet into two pieces as instructed. Marcus watched him quietly, working on keeping his breathing as steady as possible. His world had started to spin and threaten to fade in and out of consciousness when they had been walking down the service tunnel, but Marcus had kept quiet. There was no point in aggravating Baird any further, and there hadn't been anything that could really be done...

"Now what?" Baird asked, once again pressing his fingers firmly against the tac comm.

"Wrap one piece around his shoulder and the wound as firmly as you can. Then cross that with the other piece and wrap the other piece around the injury."

"Hold on..."

Marcus was already slowly sitting up with a visible flinch, and Baird began to wrap the bedsheet around the injury, and then the next one as per Harris's instructions. As he pulled the makeshift bandages snug, Marcus grunted shortly in pain, but kept quiet otherwise.

Frowning, Baird sighed and reactivated the tac comm.

"Done."

"Next up is that you need to make a sling," Harris said. "Do you-"

"Look, rookie," Baird snapped, his tone turning acidic. "I don't have time to play goddamn nurse all day! The weapons system of this hellhole is burned out and it's only a matter of time before the grubs get to us."

"If you don't make a sling, every time Sergeant Fenix moves his arm, he's going to tear the injury open again," Harris retorted, his voice surprisingly steeling over. "Your choice, sir. We can move onto the next injury if you want."

"...fuck," Baird hissed. "Alright, dammit, go ahead and tell me what to do."

"Take another bed sheet and then cut a large triangle out of it. It needs to be big enough to make a sling that can be tied around Sergeant Fenix's neck, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Baird grumbled, angrily snatching up another bed sheet and cutting a triangle out of it.

Midway through cutting the triangle out, Baird heard the low, strained shriek of a Kantus. Both he and Marcus looked around quickly, Baird slowly reaching for his Lancer. After a few minutes, there were the low growls and snarls of Locust, but they sounded far enough away that they wouldn't be an immediate threat. Hurriedly tying the sling around Marcus's neck, Baird activated the tac comm again.

"Rookie, we've got grubs movin' around now," Baird growled lowly into the tac comm. "Need to hurry this up, dammit!"

"Alright, alright," Harris said, his tone still staying surprisingly level. "You're going to need to keep from jarring Sergeant Fenix to avoid further damage to his ribs. If you have something strong enough, you can make a quick splint for his ankle."

Looking around quickly, Baird snatched up a broken chair leg and looked over at Marcus.

"Gotta' make a splint and then we gotta' get the hell outta' here," Baird explained, holding up the chair leg.

"Screw the splint," Marcus snarled, shoving himself to his feet and gritting his teeth against the bites of pain in his sides. "Let's just get outta' this damn grubfest."

Frowning, Baird started to argue, but when he heard the Kantus shriek again, he tossed the chair leg aside and quickly went back to assisting Marcus in walking. Marcus made an irritated grunt, but Baird snorted derisively in response.

"We need to get outta' here," Baird said, cautiously kicking open the bedroom door. "You're just gonna' have to deal with me invading your personal bubble for a bit, man."

Grumbling under his breath, Marcus limped along. The stabbing pain in his ankle came back with a vengeance, and Marcus momentarily regretted having declined the splint. But as the roars from the Locust began to draw closer, Marcus forced back the pain and worked on redoubling his efforts to limp faster.

"Shit," he muttered. "...goddamn grubs are worse than a tax collector."

Grinning grimly, Baird nodded and looked around. They were in another hallway, but it looked like it was from a past theme that had been in mid-renovation when the museum had been abandoned. There were thick coats of dust over all the dioramas, and more of those ridiculous, red-velvet covered ropes to mockingly bar people from entering the area.

"Any idea...where...where we are?" Marcus asked, glancing over at Baird. "Looks like...the...left wing."

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinkin'," Baird replied, looking around the hallway still. "If we can get to the playing field in the back, we may be able to get an evac out of this shit-hole."

Pressing his fingers against the tac comm in his ear, Baird worked to keep his voice low.

"This is Delta One. Come in."

"Hear you, Delta One," Clay answered. "You got us an evac point?"

"Off by the left wing there should be an old playing field. You seein' this?"

Baird could hear Clay yelling orders to the Raven pilot, and after a few minutes, Clay's voice came through clearly.

"We see it, you blond bastard. We're circling pretty high and there's grubs all over the place, but I'm bustin' out the welcome wagon on their sorry asses," Clay declared happily. "You give us the signal when you can haul ass and we'll be waiting."

"...whee," Harris followed up in a monotone. "Just keep your head down, sir! Golden Rule of the Gears, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, rookie," Baird snapped back. "Thank you for that little after-school special."

Though the hallway was dark, the emergency lighting had still remained on enough that Baird could guide Marcus around the debris that littered the hallway. If he recalled correctly, they should be nearing the doorway to the playing field shortly. The Locust were now roaring in full force, and both Gears could hear them tearing through the museum.

They were hunting for Marcus and Baird...

So far, they still sounded far enough away that Baird thought they may be able to make it to the doorway. But he could also hear that the Locust were fast closing the gap...and by the sound of it, they were breaking through walls in order to do so.

"C'mon, man," Baird panted. "...almost there."

"That's what you...said...an hour ago," Marcus grumbled.

"Hasn't been that long, asshole."

Turning right at the end of the hallway, Baird saw the shattered, mangled remains of the two sliding glass doors that led out into the playing field.

"Let's go!" Marcus snarled, shoving back the pain to double his pace.

Baird stumbled slightly at the sudden burst of speed, then quickly kept pace with Marcus, helping the Sergeant along. The broken shards of glass crunched underneath their boots, and Baird glanced over his shoulder. The walls were starting to quake under the abuse from the Locust, and now it was a matter of minutes before they'd break through.

And neither Baird nor Marcus, especially Marcus, were in any state to fight Locust.

Hell, at this point, Baird didn't think it was safe for Marcus to fight anything stronger than a polio-stricken gnat.

"This is Delta One!" Baird shouted into his tac comm. "We're coming up to the doors of the playing field! You better be waitin' on hand and knee for us and better to have saved us the good seats in that Raven!"

"Just get your blond ass over here, princess!" Clay retorted. "And you'd better get Sergeant Fenix here in one piece."

Cautiously stepping over the twisted metal pieces and piles of broken glass, Baird and Marcus limped out into the dim sunlight. Even though thick clouds concealed the Sun itself, the light was almost blinding after their time in the darkened museum.

Slowly descending, the Raven touched down on the ground and sent swirls of thick dust clouds spiraling upwards as its rotors agitated the air around them. Clay was already at the mounted machine gun, and Harris had his Lancer at the ready. When he saw Baird and Marcus, he began to wave them over frantically.

"Almost there, Marcus," Baird whispered. "Just a bit farther and we're gonna' be-"

A very familiar roar rattled the air, and both Gears felt their insides turn to icewater. Even Clay and Harris seemed slightly confused by the noise, but immediately Clay refocused and firmed his grip on the machine gun handles.

The Berserker was back.

"Run, asshole! Run!" Baird commanded.

Though he was practically dragging Marcus along, as Baird made it halfway to the Raven, Harris hopped out of the helicopter and met the two Gears. He quickly grasped Marcus's side as carefully but firmly as possible, helping the Sergeant to move forward faster.

"Don't hate me, sir," Harris muttered quietly, noting the grunt of discomfort Marcus made at being touched. "...and I don't have cooties."

Marcus started to say something in response, but when the brick wall of the museum that faced the playing field started to shudder, the Sergeant fell silent.

Bricks, rock, and assorted debris flew into the air like makeshift shrapnel as the Berserker exploded out of the building. A froth had formed around her teeth-laden jaws, and her clouded over, blind eyes were squinted murderously as she clawed viciously at the air.

"Holy shit!" Harris screamed. "What the hell is that!?"

"A good reason to shut the fuck up and run like hell, dipshit!" Baird shouted.

When they reached the Raven, Harris and Baird helped Marcus onto the waiting stretcher, while Baird scrambled into the nearest seat of the Raven and then took aim at the Berserker with his Lancer. He could see Locust milling around behind her, but they weren't quite brave enough to race past the bitch. Harris was already looking over Marcus's injuries, but he still looked over fearfully at the raging Locust female.

Gritting his teeth, Clay opened fire on the Berserker. The bullets pinged and whizzed harmlessly off her armor, but it was enough to momentarily disorient her. ...at least...it was, until a Kantus suddenly darted around her, his face bloodied and broken. Clay stared in a split second of disbelief as the Kantus shouted something at the Berserker, and then the hulking behemoth turned her sights squarely on Clay and the Raven.

"Up!" Clay shouted to the pilot. "Up, up, up! Get this goddamn thing _airborne_!"

The Raven lurched forward as the pilot began to wildly try to get the helicopter up into the air. The Berserker staggered slightly when one of the rotors clipped one of the spikes on her head, but she then took a swipe, her talons reaching out at Clay.

The Berserker's claws caught in the barrel of the machine gun, and the metal began to twist and shriek under the sudden force. The Raven tilted over dangerously, and both Baird and Harris held Marcus steady while gripping at the seats to avoid being thrown out of the helicopter.

The Locust had now swarmed out of the museum, and bullets began to whiz through the air and cracked against the Raven's armor. Scrambling over, Baird tried to shield Marcus as best he could, glaring over his shoulder at the horde of Locust. Again, though, the Berserker was inadvertently providing cover from most of the bullets, and Baird could hear the bullets pattering harmlessly against her armor.

"Shit not again!" Clay cried, grabbing the base of the mounted machine gun.

"We're not pickin' up ass ugly hitch hikers, you bitch!" Baird snarled.

The Berserker tugged at the machine gun, causing the Raven to rock wildly. The pilot was yelling a stream of almost unintelligible curses as he fought to keep the helicopter from falling over completely on its side. If it did that, the rotors would hit the mass of armor and muscle and they'd be dead...or worse. A low, guttural roar, almost a depraved chuckle, rolled from the Berserker's maw, and she pulled at the machine gun again, the sound of the Raven's engine groaning in struggle.

Looking over, Harris snatched up the fire extinguisher that was mandatory for all Ravens, and yanked the pin free. The sudden blast of fire suppressant struck the Berserker square in the face, and she snarled in confusion before promptly starting to choke as she fell back slightly.

It was enough.

The Raven pilot swerved the helicopter around, circling the Berserker as the Raven began to gain more altitude. Another, angry snarl from the Kantus made the Berserker regain her focus and the Locust began to take aim at the pilot of the Raven. The Berserker lunged for the helicopter, but the pilot jerked the Raven off to the side, and the Berserker's talons brushed by the helicopter futilely. As the Raven drew higher into the air, the Locust fire became less and less of a threat, and once the helicopter broke up into the clouds, a much needed sense of calm began to slowly wash over the occupants of the Raven.

"...shit...holy...holy shit," Clay breathed, still holding onto the base of the machine gun. "...yeah...if we never do that again...I'll be good."

His eyes still wide, Harris was clinging to the fire extinguisher. He then looked at it and made a short, nervous laugh.

"Bitches can't stand the fire or the fire suppressant, apparently!" he laughed weakly.

"Yeah, bet you can give the makers of that thing a testimonial like they wouldn't goddamn believe," Baird muttered, grinning slightly. He was still hunched over Marcus, and he knew there had been a couple bullets that had hammered into his armor. But judging by the lack of sharp pain, Baird wasn't shot. He glanced down at Marcus, who seemed to be teetering back on the brink of unconsciousness.

"...hey, Sarge?" Baird asked quietly. Behind him, he could hear Clay and Harris swapping testimonial tagline ideas. "Marcus?"

"...next time...we're takin' a goddamn Centaur," Marcus muttered.

()

Weeks later, Marcus was slowly walking around the base, his right ankle had been severely sprained, and it was still wrapped tightly in bandages to hold it steady, but after two weeks of being bedridden, Marcus had insisted on being released from the med ward. There was only so long he could go before not doing anything started to grate on his nerves and fray them.

Finding himself walking to the garage, Marcus made a short, slightly humored snort at the sight of the damaged Raven, the very helicopter that they'd taken to and from the museum, sitting in the large bay of the garage that was reserved for just such aircraft. As expected, Baird was there, working on the mounted machine gun. He had succeeded in removing the damaged gun and was now preparing the new base for the new mounted machine gun. The blond was knelt down slightly as he worked on setting the metal circle of the machine gun base.

Walking over slowly to Baird, Marcus realized that the blond was completely focused on the task at hand, and probably wouldn't notice if the whole garage crashed down around his ears. With a short sigh, Baird stood up slowly, his back still to Marcus, as he rocked his head from side to side to destress the muscles in his neck. Seizing the opportunity, Marcus wrapped his uninjured arm around Baird's waist and forcibly pulled the blond against him.

Baird made a surprised snarl and tensed slightly, but almost immediately recognizing Marcus, he relaxed and sighed heavily. He leaned back against the Sergeant lightly, resting his hand on Marcus's forearm.

"You just enjoy scarin' the shit outta' me, don't you, man?" Baird grumbled.

"You complainin'?" Marcus rumbled.

"...nah."

"That's what I thought."

Breathing out slowly, Marcus kissed the side of Baird's neck, eliciting a low purr of contentedness from the blond. Reaching up, Baird gently caressed the side of Marcus's face. He still had a bandage around his hand from where he'd accidentally sliced his hand, but the wound was almost completely healed.

"Marcus?"

"Hrm?" The Sergeant asked, nuzzling the side of Baird's neck slowly.

"...don't ever do that to me again, man. ...fuck, if you haven't figured it out by now...I ain't going anywhere. Sure as hell ain't leaving you."

Pausing, Marcus sighed and then shook his head slightly.

"You should know that you can't promise that, Baird," Marcus muttered. His voice sounded suddenly very exhausted, and Baird frowned. He knew that tone, and though it was not a tone that Marcus allowed himself to take very often, the tone spoke volumes.

"Yeah, but I'm almost as stubborn as you are," Baird chuckled. "And I've already made up my mind."

Marcus made a low, slightly frustrated growl, but pulled Baird against him a little firmer, as if he could somehow will Baird's impossible promise into existence.

How many people had he lost? How many Gears had he seen ruthlessly cut down? How many civilians had he seen butchered? And each time, Death seemed to draw closer and closer to those that Marcus was concerned most about. Those he wanted to protect above all else.

And it seemed that no matter how much Marcus tried, no matter how hard he fought, Death always found a way to catch him off guard. And for that temporary lapse in vigilance, somebody else would pay the ultimate price. Death had been striking close enough that Baird...

A low, angry and defeated snarl rumbled from the back of Marcus's throat, and he heard Baird chuckle lowly.

"Find a nerve, did I?" the blond inquired.

"...jackass," Marcus grumbled.

"I know I am," Baird answered cockily. He then turned slowly, allowing Marcus to keep his arm firmly wrapped around Baird's waist. Grasping Marcus's face gently, Baird looked up at the Sergeant for a few moments before kissing him deeply. A low sigh from Marcus hummed against Baird's lips, and the blond chuckled softly before pulling back.

Marcus gave Baird a steady, firm look, but Baird raised an eyebrow and grinned knowingly.

"Don't believe me, huh?"

"...I can't."

Sighing but maintaining his grin, Baird kissed Marcus with surprising softness.

"Sure you can," Baird answered. "Besides, somebody's gotta' stick around to make sure you don't get crushed with that weight of the world you're carrying on your shoulders."

Though the Sergeant said nothing, he set his forehead against Baird's lightly, relaxing and leaning against the blond. Baird held steady, and for a few brief moments, it felt as though nothing else in the world mattered.


End file.
